Infiltration
by KenderickBlazey
Summary: Alfred and Arthur are infiltrating a Vietnamese military base when something goes wrong and one of them is captured. Now it is up to both of them to get out alive and complete the mission, but can they do it without getting themselves into more trouble?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"With all due respect, mister President, it's pretty early where I live. Is there any particular reason that you've dragged me all the way over here, in person? I mean, it's an honour and all, but you could've jolly well just called me over the phone."

"We appreciate that. And we are thankful for your co-operation and fast arrival, sir-"

A third voice piped up. "Actually, I just took your jet to his house and threw him in! ...We might need to get him a new bed, though. I kinda may have thrown that out of his... Window."

"...Of course." The second voice seemed hesitant, but then carried on. "Our apologies. We will get you a replacement for your... Bed. As for why we brought you here, well, a situation seems to have cropped up. One that may put a risk to our national security. And we thought that it'd be of our courtesy to ask of your help in person."

"Well, that's all good and well, but I don't understand why you need _my_ help. If it imposes a risk to _your_national security, then what does it have to do with my country? Surely it is a matter that you can deal with on your own, with all your world-famous military and defenses?"

"If this ordeal gets out of hand, it may not just affect us, it may affect the entire world." The 'president' replied suddenly, voice more strained and serious than before. "We aren't just talking about a simple house call here. No, we're talking about the threat of terrorism. And I wouldn't be saying this, were I not serious, we need your help."

"What would you require of my services, then?"

"We... Well, let me give you some insight to the situation. A terrorist organisation calling themselves as 'Swarm of Freedom' have been making moves and committing terrorism all over the world since the 1970's. We've managed to keep their actions under wraps to avoid public outcry, so you may not have heard of them, even being who you are."

"I haven't."

"Well, after we managed to capture a few of their leaders in the winter of 1999, we hoped that the organisation would die out. However, that was not the case. They laid low until the march of 2009, where we were given a message of their return. We managed to avoid a bombing, but they managed to get away, unfortunately. Recently, we have been told that although we still are unclear of their whereabouts, we have a few leads in Vietnam. Apparently the organisation may or may not have tried to create a base there. Either way, we need information from the Vietnamese government of their people; who has flown into the country, orders from abroad, internet access, etcetera."

"Why don't you just ask the people of Vietnam? Or Vietnam herself for the information, then?"

There was a pause in the room, which was only interrupted by the third voice. "Well, erm..."

A sigh. "We would do that, except the people of Vietnam are still rather vary of our presence, especially after... The 'cake incident'."

"The what?"

"Another thing we've tried to cover up to avoid public outcry. _Someone_thought it'd be a good idea to sneak into a top-security Vietnamese military base to look for the recipe of a birthday cak-"

"I swear to God, it was Prussia's idea! Gilbert told me that she had a top secret favourite kind of birthday cake, and I thought that if it was top secret, it'd be held where all the top secret things are held!"

"He ended up getting into a base all by himself, without telling anyone or taking anything to protect himself. Ended up getting caught, and-"

"I just wanted to make a cake!"

"Well, let's just say that our international relations haven't been quite the same since then."

"So, you're telling me that... You need my help to find out information from the Vietnamese government."

"Ah, well... Not exactly." The 'president's' tone was suddenly a little more bright. "We need your personal assistance. We are aware of your... Well, talents when it comes to espionage. We'd like you to... Well, assist an infiltration into one of the military bases in Vietnam."

There was another pause in the room, and then a curt laugh. "Really, now, mister president. You want me to turn into a spy for you?"

"Well, yeah, That'd be nice." The tone suddenly turned serious again. "But technically, you're not working just to help us and America out. You'd be helping with the destruction of the terrorist group and keeping the safety of both our people intact. It, however, is your choice whether you choose to assist us or not. The mission is yours, accept it or not. We would like an answer before 0800 hours tomorrow."

And with that, the 'president' dismissed the two other men in the room. As they walked out, one anxiously hopped to the other, biting his lip. "So, dude... You gonna do it, or what?"

"Hm..." The other mused, crossing his arms. "I take it that you'd be on the mission yourself."  
"Yeah. And I can do it by myself! But..."

"You're incompetent?"

"No! Well.. Maybe, but that's not the point! It's just that... You're good. Really good. And... It'd be beyond awesome if you could maybe be badass for like, a day and help us get this intel so that we could get rid of these terrorist people?"

There was a silence in the room as one man awaited an answer from the other.

"Alfred?"

"Huh, yeah?"

"Get your night vision goggles on. We're going spying."

**A/N: Hiya! And welcome to the story that both I and the ABSOLUTELY FABULOUS/AMAZING/AWESOME AS PRUSSIA Micromil601 we are writing. We may decide to change the rating as the story progresses, but I suppose the T rating is pretty good for now. **

**Stay tuned for updates!  
**


	2. An Inconvinient Beginning

**Chapter One:**

An inconvenient beginning.

_**Magda: "He suggests a trade. The egg for your life."**_

_**Bond: "Well, I heard the price of eggs was up, but isn't that a little high?"**_

_**-James Bond, Octopussy.**_

The wind hit him like a slap in the face, the sound of the plane quickly quieting and then muting to a light thudding in his ears as the wind roared in its place. Spreading his arms he was glad for the black jackets and the goggles over his eyes, as they protected them from the blistering cold on the rest of his face and cracking the lips above his mouth. He was especially thankful for the reassuring straps of the parachute that tightly bound onto his back.

He opened his eyes and closed his drying mouth shut in a tight line as he searched and located the base close by in front of him. The plane had not been able to fly any closer in case of suspicion but otherwise it was black, designed to evade radar detection and very fast, so it might be able to get away without being noticed, if the wind was going in the right direction for it not to be heard at all.

He grunted and pulled his arms out, spreading the wing suit and angling himself towards it. He felt further pull on his arms and legs but the wind in his ears lessened a little and he managed to hear the last sounds of the speeding jet before it disappeared completely. He wasn't used to wingsuits, they were pretty new but they were useful on this occasion, otherwise he'd have to use his parachute for longer to direct himself towards the roof he was heading for and risk being seen by the spotlights. It was risky like this anyway, but at least the risk was now lessened.

He stayed silent whilst diving, trying to ignore the bitter cold on his showing skin on his cheeks and the fact he was beginning to feel it even through his thick gloves. Looking down and narrowing his eyes, he tried to see as much as he could, taking in the mapping of the area. He had looked at maps before of the place, only at a different angle, yet it only took him a moment to orientate himself and confirm his target roof. He then noted all exits and the direction his comrade should be coming in. Below him were many cars and soldiers, a few motorbikes and lots of security around the exit gates. That would be hard to get rid of.

Soon, the roof was looming in on him. He realised he was falling much too fast, he would smash into the side easily. Time for the parachute. His second slap hit him as the parachute opened and pulled him upwards with a jerk, dragging at his arms and snapping his head back; but, with a growl, he balanced himself and grabbed the handles dangling at his side before directing the parachute towards the building, silently dropping through the air, completely black and then landing on the roof with a few running steps forward a few seconds after opening the parachute, quickly moving further in to collect the parachute again, he couldn't let that be seen otherwise it would all be for nothing.

Quickly collecting it and then dumping it with the bag and the outer-wingsuit on the corner of the rooftop. It would be a hindrance for what he was about to do. He kept the goggles on and crouched by the side of the roof, looking out over the center of the base in his black suit, securing his head-set and then turning it on; then tapping the microphone to test it, hearing the pats sounding in his ears and smiling a little with satisfaction. He opened the connection and spoke quietly into it. "I'm set on the rooftop. Are you in position Alfred? All clear where you are?"

"Roger that." The American said into his own head set, probably a bit louder than he should have been for a man in his current position. He treaded through to his destination with the rich mixture of mud and snow on his soles squelching down. "I'm getting there. Hold on."

"Good, i'll get to the security for you. You're alright aren't you?"

He wearily looked behind and into the direction where the rather large snake he had the displeasure of meeting had previously emanated from. He then pulled a brave face and replied, again, much louder than appropriate. "Of course I'm fine! Never been better! Just, uh, make sure to hurry it up, won'tcha?"

"You want to get back in time for dinner don't you?" Arthur replied, not looking amused.

Undetecting the probable sarcasm hidden in the Englishman's sentence, Alfred forgot about his previous fears a cheerily replied, drawing nearer to his location while swatting away at a few of the damned mosquitoes. "Hell yeah! I'm starving, dude! Dinner sounds great."

Arthur grunted. "Thought as much you greedy bastard. Just stay put." He turned to the hatch on the roof and quietly jogged over, kneeling by it and listening with his ear to it for a moment before deciding it was all clear and clipping it open to enter, hand resting on his pistol just in case they had expected him after his hard landing on the roof which may have made enough noise to alert somebody.

"I ain't a greedy bast-AARD!" His retort was half interrupted by a yell of shock as he only now caught sight of the snake that had somehow made way in front of him, and was now dangerously close to his feet. "HOLY SHIT, SNAKE, FUCKING SNAKE!" He unintentionally screamed into the headset while awkwardly dancing around on the balls of his feet to avoid the predator.

"Shut up!" Arthur hissed as he landed in the roof storage room. "You'll alert people of your position!"

The American slowly stopped the flailing as he tried to make out a shape of the creature, that was now much too close for comfort. "S-Shit, dude. Okay. Alright, I'm good, now... HOLY SHIT, I'M STANDING ON THE FUCKING SNAKE AND IT'S FUCKING HUUUUUGE... And it's stopped moving!" He glanced down at the reptile that was under his feet. "Aw, shit. I think I killed it."

"Stamp on its head till it's mashed, then you'll have definitely killed it." Arthur advised edging towards the next door.

"...Sure." The American made sure to sound as confident as he could on the headset, while slightly cringing as he tried to find the head of the large animal to step on. "Okey-Doke... Killing the snake. Got it."

"Good luck. Maybe use your dagger?" Arthur added before placing his ear on the next door cautiously, lifting his gun up as he slowly tested the handle and opened the door. Luckily again, nobody was there. He was beginning to think that things were getting too easy.

Alfred paused for a moment. Yes, cutting the animal's head off seemed like a good idea. It would die quicker that way, and then he could get moving again. "Roger." He nodded into the microphone, as he pulled out the small knife from its usual place. He squinted to see where to stab the snake, but after a minute or two of concentrating on making a clean cut, he decided he couldn't be bothered and decided to 'wing it'.

He thrust the dagger down, first missing the snake altogether, and hitting mud. Annoyed, he pulled out back up and stabbed again. "Ugh. Stupid... Thing! Shit! ...That's not its neck! Awh, crap. Why can't I get it... Oh, well... It's pretty dead now."

"Okay, good enough, now shut it. I'm getting to the security. You know where the information is, don't you?"

"Yeah! Uh, totally!" And by 'totally', he had hardly a clue. He remembered being told where it was, but had now all but completely forgotten about it. Oh well, he was sure he'd remember upon getting inside. "Hmm, lemme get my ass in there first, alright?"

"Alright, but you'd better get there quickly, you can't afford to get this wrong, we have a maximum of five minutes before somebody finds out I've messed with security." Arthur came to the last door and peeked through, seeing a room full of screens flashing with security camera footage and information on the electrified barbed wire at the top of the fencing that bordered the establishment.

There was one man sat half asleep in front of them, drinking from a beer can and resting small feet on the desk in front, murmuring a chinese song to himself as Arthur observed the iPod plugged into his ears. He slowly opened the door in case the man managed to hear him and came up behind, pulling out a garotte and pausing for a moment before darting it over the man's neck and squeezing to stop the man from calling out.

He wheeled the chair back to stop him touching any of the controls and alarming everyone and strangled until the man was thoroughly unconscious. He let go, and let the man slump down the chair and onto the ground before dumping the asian figure at the side of the room and taking the seat to the controls. He flicked switches and watched progress, remembering what he'd learnt about the establishments systems before watching status lights blink out. "Okay, the north fence is out, you're in America, cut the wires."

"Gotcha, dude." The American dashed forwards to do his job. He approached the side of establishment, praying that he was in the right place and at the right time. He swiftly grabbed the appropriate tools to do his job from the pockets, and got in, using what he had learnt from his training. "Right. And... Done."

"Good, now get inside and run to the next building. There's a patroller with a dog coming from your right so be careful."

"Roger." He nodded to himself, and sneaked inside the building in a fashion surprisingly stealthy, especially for him. Gulping, he paid attention to his right to avoid the canine security, and managed to avoid it without much hassle. It was only now though that he realised that his mud coated shoes were leaving behind a trail of easily recognisable and trackable shoe-prints. "...Houston, we have a problem." He muttered, biting his lip.

"What? What is i- Oh..." Arthur murmured as he saw it on the security camera. "Take your shoes off." He instructed firmly.

"What?!" Alfred exclaimed, then looked down again with a slight pout, examining the 'damage'. "But I don't wanna go around without my shoes, man! That... That just ain't cool!"

"Take your shoes off and cover the tracks, the dog'll pick 'em up, but he won't smell it if you're very lucky, take your fucking shoes off NOW."

"Whatever, dude! Chill out!" He murmured with annoyance as he was forced to throw the muddy shoes off with vigour. Without much time to spare, he covered up the tracks, and carrying the shoes, sprinted as fast as he possibly could to the other building, eyes wide with fear and panting harshly as he made it to the desired location, cringing as he slowed down due to the uncomfortable feeling on the bottom of his exposed feet. "I hope you're fucking happy."

"Yes, it'll do. I can't see it anymore. Now continue to the records, they're in the building east of the one you're at, take the alley just beside you and you should come out with it just to your left. I can't help you from there because I'm going to have to shift it, just remember the map we were shown, okay? It's on the main computer, in a different room to all the other computers in there so you should find it, but there are lot's of people so be careful."

"Computer. Got it." He replied, gritting teeth as he heard barking of a dog from behind. Deciding to keep moving, he crouched slightly and followed the alley Arthur had instructed him to follow down. Despite it being noiseless for the times being (a little 'too quiet', if he went by the cliche), he kept himself to the shadows. He nearly jumped as he heard footsteps coming from the direction he was headed in, and the American quickly jumped to the side to avoid being discovered. The man walking towards him looked fairly harmless, looking like an office worker in uniform.

He seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, so he walked briskly by, not even noticing the hidden American. This was a relief to Alfred, who still kept his hand on a small handgun that was holstered to his belt for 'moral protection'.

"I'm moving into the experiment building." Arthur informed him, having left the security and continued on into the next structure. "I locked the security with a password and changed the gate code, so that I can get us out. How are you doing?"

He decided not to mention being nearly caught and replied with, "Things are running pretty smooth down here. I'm just about to exit the alley and get into the eastern building. Hopefully I'm gonna get in without too much trouble." Waiting a few seconds to make sure that the man was not being followed, he continued down the alley, and turned to his left when the alley split into a 'T'.

"Good, I'm going in. Hey, what if I started a fire alarm?"

"A fire alarm, huh?" He contemplated as he snuck forwards, bringing his back to the wall before turning another corner. He heard footsteps approaching, and knew he was on thin ice. Not that it worried him too much, as he carefully tiptoed towards the corner while raising the gun in one hand. Just before reaching the corner, he stopped just in time for another uniformed man to walk by, who didn't have a second to react before the American whacked him hard with the butt of his handgun.

The man fell over with a small cry, and Alfred briskly carried the knocked out worker back to the alleyway, to throw him in the shadows. Once the limp body was shrouded by the darkness, he grinned to himself. "What would we need a fire alarm for?"

"It would clear all the people out, and make it easier to search for information; and maybe stop people from finding out we're here first, but then we might get two minutes at best before they realise there's no fire."

"Sounds like a plan!" He spoke brightly. "I'm right next to the info room, but I can hide out in the alley while everyone gets the hell outta here, and sneak in. Do it when you're ready, dude."

"Alright then, I can see one just inside this door, problem is it's in full view of the scientists so I'll have to not be spotted. Going in, brace yourself." Arthur peered in through the glass door and waited for a silent moment before rushing forward across the road, pulling the door open into a small cloakroom and smashing his fist on the glass.

The alarms started wailing and Arthur backed into a corner, camouflaging his black jacket against the black trench coats hung up against the wall as people walked out orderly in front of him, rushing slightly but keeping to orders.

Alfred couldn't help but to smirk as people suddenly rushed out from the information room, too preoccupied with getting themselves outside, probably assuming that there was a fire swallowing up a part of the building, than to notice the crouching American and knocked out man, who were both hidden in alleyway shadows. Alfred was glad that Arthur had thought of this. Considering from the amount of people walking out, he would have been screwed trying to get into the room by himself, not to mention getting in undetected. "Right, dude. I think they're all out now. I'm gonna get moving."

"Okay, do it quickly before people come in to find the guy I strangled. I'll move quick too. See you in five to ten minutes by the gate, they'll be trapped inside, but I'll open it. I spotted motorbikes on the way in, we can hitch a ride."

"Roger." America murmured, getting into the now deserted room. In their hurry, the people had left the doors wide open, so strolling in was fairly easy. Alfred looked about the room, it was a dark space which had many computers scattered about, emanating the creepy, luminous light into the room. He spotted a PC much bigger than the others at the far end of the room, and presumed it was the one he needed. He quickly walked towards it, fiddling in his pocket to find the memory stick in which he'd store the computer data. It was a conveniently fast little thing, but the sheer amount of data that was to be transferred made sure that the American was forced to be in the room for the next five to ten minutes at least.

Arthur did similarly and walked into the room more slowly, looking around at the dangerous chemicals and tests, he didn't want to damage anything or slip and fall maybe into the vats of acid and other fluids around the room, even if it was a harmless body fluid of some sort, it was going to be disgusting for his gentlemanly figure.

He walked quickly, however, and came to the opposite side of the room, tests would be hard to take home, so records would be easier to replicate the experiment needed later. The next room was full of shelves stacked with grey folders filled with files of all kinds, each was labeled with a section and number along with dates below.

It seemed impossible to find what he was looking for, but an earlier mission had revealed the exact file number needed and the order revealed the exact location Arthur should start to look in. He read the closest labels and figured out what direction the numbers went down in before running forwards, glancing up and down at the shelves until he found the correct section, once he had found the block of shelves he stopped and stared at the mass before gulping. It could take a while to find the specific folder they needed inside the section.

Meanwhile, Alfred was whistling to himself as he impatiently waited for the data from the computer to transfer to his memory stick. This was all dreadfully boring, as there was nothing to do but stare at the loading screen (which said that the process was about 38% complete) and listen to the humming of the other laptops. Alfred was tempted to see if he could use the internet on one of the computers by him, but stopped dead in his tracks as he heard the click of a gun from behind.

**(TBC...)**

**A/N: First chapter, huzzah! **  
**...And it ends with a cliffhanger. HIP, HIP, HOORAAY!**  
**I feel terribly sorry for that snake though. He had nothing to do with this D'8 NOOOO! POOR ! D'X**  
**Oh crap, we gave it a name. Now we'll get attached to it! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!**  
**So, WHAT HAS HAPPENED? WHY IS ALFRED BEING HELD AT POINT-BLANC? HOW WILL HE GET OUT OF THIS? AND WHEN WILL ARTHUR LEARN NOT TO TAKE THE AMERICAN WITH HIM TO ESPIONAGE MISSIONS?!**

**All will be revealed... IN THE NEXT CHAPTER! 8D**


	3. From the Frying Pan and Into the Fire

**Chapter Two:**

Escape From the Frying Pan and Into the Fire.

**(A villain chases Bond and skis into a snow-blower, which then sprays red snow.)**

**Bond: "He had a lot of guts!"**

**-James Bond, On Her Majesty's Secret Service**

Back in the research lab, Arthur flicked through the hundreds of files, glancing at photos and graphs before finally finding the first file he needed. He secured it to the spare rucksack he had and grabbed the next in line, seeing the continuation and securing that too. He found around five files full of the information, but could only carry three of the thick things on his back.

Carrying the last two he began to run out of the lab again, hoping that Alfred would have space for them once he reached the boy in the computer structure, he also hoped Alfred hadn't been shot by the time he got there, he could afford to drive an undead whinging lump of injured country back with him.

Alfred felt his blood run cold as he slowly turned his head to find the source of the mysterious clicking noise. His cobalt eyes widened as he saw the man he has thought he knocked out from before conscious and holding a gun pointed directly at him. The nation fumbled for his own weapon, but jumped as a bullet hit a laptop near him.

He raised his hands slightly as the man spat at him in broken English. "Put your... Hands up and do not move your body."

"Hey Alfred, what's your status?" Arthur questioned through the comms unit as he snuck around the buildings, avoiding the mass of people huddling by the front gate in a circular group wondering why it wasn't opening, pausing before he entered the building Alfred was in.

The American heard the Brit's concerned question over the headset, but decided to ignore it. He sent a glare at the man holding the weapon out at him, and snarled in a way he thought was somewhat heroic. "What do ya want?!"

"America?" Arthur questioned again after not hearing a reply. He frowned and moved forward anyway, more cautiously through the falling snow and silently entered the building, hearing a murmured question before putting the files down on a bench and pulling his gun out before entering the next room, seeing the asian man first with his gun to Alfred's head and then slowly edging his way around the room, pointing the pistol at the man's head the whole time.

"Alfred." He hardly whispered when the man spoke so as not to be heard, putting a hand in front of his mouth to prevent noise moving further than to the microphone by his mouth. "Stay... Completely... _Still._"

The American nation was intrigued by Arthur's words. Was the Brit in here? How did he seemingly know what was happening? He tried to look around the room, trying to contain himself from hyperventilating in fright at the fact that he could or could not be shot point-blanc by the enemy. He took a sharp inhale as the uniformed man spoke again. "Who else do you have with you in here?"

"DON'T tell him." Arthur warned urgently as he continued around the walls, trying to get into a position where he could shoot the man without shooting Alfred at the same time. "He'll alert somebody else and then they'll all be after us."

Alfred closed his eyes as the man drew nearer and held the gun against his head. This was not his best day. Nevertheless, he gulped as he heard Arthur talk to him through the headset. "N-No one. I came here on my own." He replied, biting his lip even more as the gun was pressed harder against his forehead.

"Just keep him busy, he might not believe you." Arthur added before continuing, he was almost directly to the pairs right, he just couldn't let his black movements against the white walls be seen in the corner of the guard's eye. He pulled the safety back with a light click.

The Brit was unfortunately right. The man did not believe a word. "You expect me to believe that... You made it in here all by yourself? You must be more idiotic than you look. And that is saying something." He gave Alfred a stomach-lurching smile and carried on. "I wonder if I can bring your friends out by putting a bullet in your skull."

"Other way around, mate." Arthur muttered before pulling the trigger, his aim perfect and plunging the bullet straight through the man's ear and gouging through his brain before the man could shoot, falling to his side. Arthur instantly went into action and ran back to get the files he'd left. Speaking out loud. "Come on! Somebody will have heard that over the alarm. Are you finished yet?"

Alfred blinked as the man that had just threatened to kill him fell down, contents of his cranium spread across the floor. He then heard a small 'ding!' as he recognised the memory stick finish collecting the data. He picked the thing away from the computer and tucked it into a small chest pocket. "I'm good! Let's get our asses outta here!"

"Good, carry these." Arthur dumped Alfred the two files just as he reached the door and ignored his shocked expression. "Don't look like that, there's no time, come on the bikes are around here!" Arthur rushed to the door and turned right away from the centre of the clearing where the crowd was and around the back of the building, he grabbed the first bike he found on the row of bike racks which luckily had good suspension and fired it up, waiting for Alfred to take one.

After getting his act together, the American carried the files to the bikes with haste. "D'ya know the way outta here? Like the roads and shit."

"Well, right now, away from here, is generally in the right direction in my mind." Arthur replied, revving the engine louder and backing out, turning towards the exit. "Keep contact on the comms, there are too many people at the exit so we'll have to find a different way out. You have the memory stick so you're priority, if there are any ways out take the chance quickly, try and get out with the bike. They'll chase you but won't be able to get many bikes after you, on foot you have less of a chance got it?"

Alfred ran to one of the bikes, and out of all the seemingly fast looking ones, decided to pick a classic looking Harley Davidson. He glanced over the controls, hopped on and revved it up, following the Englishman. "Got it."

"Okay, we'll split up and confuse them, good luck." Arthur turned around and sped through the snow to the right of the building they'd come out of, towards the entrance area of the establishment, spraying snow to the side as he turned a corner and out of sight. They had been discovered by now after the gunshots and bike noises, so the base was on red alert and shouting began to be heard as people broke from their fire alarm formation as it seemed apparent that there was no sort of fire at all.

The American ducked down slightly as he heard various yells from not too far away. He drove through mounds of crisp snow, which splattered high into the air. However, his vision remained fairly clear as he carried on going. He could have sworn he heard human voices to the left of him, much too close for his liking, but decided to keep his vision forwards and sped up.

Arthur himself turned straight out towards the group, making a crazed dash to shock the group and scatter them slightly before jerking and speeding around them, shocking them enough so that once he'd circled them, they tended to stay in the same place apart from the military ones, who along with their training shot out at him instead as he made a get away. Arthur himself wasn't scared of bullets, he'd survive them no doubt, but if he was shot he'd be dead long enough to be captured and he wouldn't get the experimental data back again; and, of course, that was more important.

Dogs barked and he scooted past them, kicking one that got too close with his large boots and wondered how Alfred was doing since he'd lost his boots earlier. He grunted and forgot it, he was on a bike! Alfred wasn't walking anymore.

The American nation gritted teeth as he heard gunshots slice the wind. Both nearby, and reasonably far away. Thoughts of the comrade Englishman possibly getting hit, or worse, captured by these people were flung out of his mind. Arthur was right, he would be the priority because of the memory stick, and he had to get out at all costs. He saw a bunch of snow suddenly get shot up as a bullet impacted the way in front of him, indicating to him the need to go faster. His bare feet felt uneasily warm, as the lack of coverage exposed them to the warming up of the motorbike engine. However, he decided to not mind this and embrace the heat, as his feet had been getting too cold beforehand.

The brit was scooting behind buildings again. He considered going back up for his parachute but that would be no use. He didn't mind leaving it because there was nothing but the parachute and the fly suit in it, and any DNA results wouldn't be recognised because his records couldn't be found anywhere apart from in high security at home, as he was a country anyway, he had some messed up DNA that wouldn't be recognised anywhere.

He looked around desperately for an exit past the outer fencing and growled as he was shot at again, forcing him to swerve back into the alleyways. There seemed to be no way out on these levels, so the only escape would be up. There were many lorries around, vans at the least, pick up trucks and carriers of all sorts for the scientists disposal, Arthur used the crates and planks of wood stacked onto the trucks to drive up a level, travelling along the tops of crates stacked at the sides of buildings before swerving to a stop at the end.

His last option was a window which he powered into with a crash. The humans must have thought him mad and the shards of glass did puncture his shirt and wound him a lot, prickling his face with cuts and pin holes as the shards of transparent dust showered over him. Shaking his head, he opened stinging eyes to turn before he drove off the edge of the second floor and fell down through the hole looking down on the room below.

He drove around the edge of what happened to be the computer room they'd been in earlier, letting Arthur recognise it and let him drive around and towards a specific window which -if he was lucky- should head straight out to a roof on a lower level. He powered onwards and smashed the next window, shutting his eyes first this time and shot through open air, floating for a moment.

The biker glanced down towards the next roof and spotted Alfred powering below before landing heavily on the next roof. It was only a shed, and the wood below gave a little with the bike's weight but Arthur grinned with triumph and his wheels screeched as he cannoned up the triangular roof and jumped onto the next building. Hope burst in his chest, just a little further and he'd manage to get out. He hoped that Alfred would follow him, or get the same idea because once he was out he was unsure if he'd be able to get back in to help the boy.

Keeping his head down to try and avoid further bullets (not that it'd help a lot to do so, but he felt more secure ducking down), the American heard the rumble or a speeding motorbike... Above him? Keeping his speed up, he allowed curiosity to get the better of him and take a quick glance up in the direction of the odd noise which he only recognised to be the purr and screech of another motorbike. Although he couldn't quite see anything, he hoped that it was the Brit. Otherwise, he was in a fair amount of trouble.

Nevertheless, the thing that worried him was the fact that the noise was coming above him, which just begged the question, if it was Arthur up there, what the hell was he doing on the roof? Deciding to not bother answering it due to the overall lack of time he really had to ponder over the question itself, Alfred leaned forwards again after seeing a significant amount of mounds of snow being blasted up as more bullets were shot in his direction.

He wasn't very sure of where the exit was exactly, but he remembered being shown blueprints and plans of the building itself in advance to the mission, and thought that he was heading in the right direction. He didn't quite want to think about what would happen if he was wrong. He suddenly heard a 'clink' as a quick force almost made him swerve to the left.

Luckily, he was balanced enough to keep himself travelling forwards without anything too damaging happening to his journey. He shot the back of his bike a glance to try and see what had happened, widening his eyes as he realised that there was a dent in the metal back, much too close for comfort. From the increasing amount of noise and sound of bullets and whatnot, he figured that they must be coming in more numbers to his direction. Which, of course, was not a very good thing.

However, just when the nation thought that things couldn't get more heated, he began to hear an eerie purr from behind. It made his hair, which was already fairly raised from his current situation, stand up further on end. He glanced up and behind, yet again, and gritted his teeth as he saw a black, visibly armed military helicopter rise into the air, and begin to, at first, slowly move forwards, and gradually pick up speed.

**(TBC...)**

**A/N: Whoah, action-filled chapter D8**  
**Thanks for all the reviews, faves and follows so far! We're trying our best to reply to every one we get, and are thankful for all your support so far! **

**WILL THE DUO GET OUT SAFELY? WHY IS THERE A HELICOPTER? WHEN WILL WE GET TO THE END OF THIS? FIND OUT SOON! 8D**


	4. The Uncanny Disaster

**Chapter Three:**

The uncanny disaster.

_**(Bond is stabbed in a wad of cash hidden in his jacket.)**_

_**Bond: Thank god for hard currency!**_

_**-James Bond, Octopussy.**_

Arthur yelped silently (closing his throat in time but still opening his mouth), and ducked as the helicopter ricocheted bullets off the roof and bike behind him, making him swerve off course of the roof that was most likely to lead him out of the establishment, and jumping him down a couple of stories as he turned left.

He cursed as the bike juddered and skidded on the slippery roof beneath him. It wasn't made to ride on, and he hadn't driven one of these in a hard-core fashion for a rather long time. He swung his bike 90 degrees to stop, pulling his gun out as the helicopter rose above the high roof he'd just jumped from and abandoned his bike for a moment.

There was no way in hell he could ride across roofs and shoot at the same time. The machine gun roared instantly, and Arthur shot back up into the open window where the flashes of gunfire could be seen; after three tries the bullets in the helicopter went silent and Arthur twisted to the more than obvious glass cockpit, smashing it and getting the driver.

That was a mistake. The helicopter swerved out of control, the engine's noise whining up and down pitches like a piano before Arthur had to take cover behind the bike so as not to get hit by the falling thing. There was one man left in the helicopter who jumped down onto the higher roof in fright before the flying machine tumbled down, smashing into the side of the roof Arthur was on with a roar, blades spraying him with roof tiles and splinters, damaging his bike to hell and back before the bulk of metal plunged down into the establishment wall.

There was a spray of the electric fence, rocketing fireworks into the air and deafening their ears before short circuiting and going silent, revealing spinning barbed wire from the light, torn free and jamming the blades to a halt. The engine hissed to a stop and the 'copter lay across the torn down fence, blades bent and jammed with wire, barbs spearing the bodies inside, tail broken and covered in shattered glass that led in a trail beneath where Arthur had shot it and where it had fallen to. Arthur remembered to breathe after a few seconds and closed his mouth, clearing his throat casually and regaining himself.

Meanwhile, Alfred had been trying to make his getaway, and was nearly at where he could see an opening out of the building. Small, red blinker lights were flashing on and off, and only now the noise of an alarm that had been wailing in the background registered in his brain. However, the American heard a bunch of strange noises from behind him, before an almighty crash that rung throughout the whole landscape, followed by a few others of its kind.

Bullets stopped raining around him, as did the shouts. They resumed, but were now much more frantic, and suddenly more distant. Yet again, the American glanced behind, expecting the chopper he had been trying to suddenly get away from be right behind him. Instead, he was met with a sight much more different. One of the rooftops, not at all far away, now had a massive hole in it, almost as if something had ripped into the building itself. He quickly remembered that it had been near where he recognised to have heard another motorbike. His mind quickly skipped to the Englishman, and he swore under his breath as he slowed down, and with one hand, flicked on his headset. "Hey, Arthur! You okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine!" Arthur hesitantly replied from the roof. "Just shot the helicopter down. Careful, there's a guy left on the roof, but the copter landed on the fence; we could get out that way- SHI-" There was gunfire from the roof above and Arthur took cover, wildly shooting back but missing in his haste to get away. He abandoned the wasted motorbike which was leaking fuel into the ground from a puncture, before jumping down the one level to the ground away from the shots, his knees buckled beneath him from the landing and he was quickly winded, making him take a few seconds break before he could recover and back into the wall. He turned his headset on again, gasping for air for a moment as his lungs seized up. "I-I'm alright. For the moment. M-My bike's bust, leaking fuel it would be dangerous to start."

He listened to the Brit's voice, at first with a slight relief that his comrade was actually alright, but then with a worry of what was going on. He looked to the exit that was only a few yards away, and completely unprotected as men had gone elsewhere. He then replied back into the headset. "Dude, I'm seriously close to the exit. And there's nobody here... Shit. Do you want me to come back to find you?"

"No, no, I'll be fine, I'll start making for the exit. Drive out first, you've got the stick, I might meet you outside, I have an idea. Just go!"

"Roger that. Alright, well, 'careful, dude." He replied into the headset, speeding up again. "You ain't got a bike, so you won't be able to get out as easy. Keep me notified on your position, alright?"

"Alright. Well, right in front of you at the moment." Arthur murmured before reaching up to a window again. "Climbing back up to the roof at the moment, just drive out they'll be here any second!"

Just as Alfred heard Arthur utter the last part of his sentence, the exit in front of him suddenly began to close. A large, metallic sheet quickly began to descend and shield off any access. The American presumed it was to stop him and his exit, and thought that it'd be crucial to hurry the hell up and actually get through before the exit itself was completely sealed off. He ducked down as far as he could to make himself as aerodynamically slim as possible, and drove the bike as he could muttering the Englishman a quick, "Godspeed, man." Before focusing on getting out.

"Thanks, and to you, too." Arthur grunted. He dragged himself up onto the roof, glancing at the bike he'd left. Staggering up he limped over to it, glancing at the gap of flattened fencing between the wreckage of the helicopter and the next strut holding the wiring up just before a metal side of the helicopters casing rocked over and closed the space off. Arthur smiled but heard shouting and so continued as much as he could. His skin itched with glass and gashes on his legs from the shattered frames he'd burst through slowed his progress.

He reached the vehicle and pulled it upright before pushing it forward. Using all his strength, he ran with it over the flat roof, leaving the brakes off and free wheeling it, getting fuel on his trouser legs without noticing, but succeeding in running fast enough to roll the bike off the roof fast enough for the momentum to send it careening into the helicopter wreckage below, the fuel tank punctured more and covered the metal with it.

Arthur had no time for triumph on the roof, as the helicopter survivor began to shoot at him again. Arthur jumped down from the roof, landing more practisedly this time with the experience of the last fall before rushing forwards, he climbed over the metal casing that would have blocked the way for Alfred's bike and with protesting legs scrabbled over to the last side. He heard shouts and as expected people soon came climbing after him. He ran for a moment, before not being able to stay ahead of the pursuers for much longer and twisting around. Aiming the gun he shot at the wreckage.

The hot bullet sent the metal carcass sky high as the fuel burst into flame, reaching the larger helicopter tank and exploding with a deafening roar, people following him screamed and were burnt to a crisp as they flew through the air with the force to tear limbs off. The shockwave sent Arthur plunging backwards into the snow to lay witness. He thought he'd been far away enough, he'd hoped to be, but shrapnel flicked and roared past him.

He cried out in pain as the broken off end of a helicopter blade came spinning through the air and hit him in the left shoulder, unnervingly close to his heart but pinning him down nevertheless and shocking his system with pain. He gritted his teeth and groaned, clenching his fists and teeth in the snow and drawing his knees up slightly. More shrapnel flew past and crackles and sparks drifted down to start his worst nightmare, the fuel on his trouserleg caught fire and he screamed as the nylon underlayer of the tight tracksuit keeping him warm melted and clung onto his leg, scorching the skin and roasting his flesh from the outside.

For the American nation who had no current idea of Arthur's situation, the exit was mere feet away now, but the door was much too far down and descending by the second. Grunting with desperation, Alfred did the most logical thing he could think of, and swerved the bike on its side, still skidding down in the direction he had been going before. He suddenly felt himself fly as his body became disattached from the bike and he was thrown out, just in time as the exit was completely sealed off. He rolled onto the ground for a yard or two, covering his face to make sure that it wasn't hurt by the ground. When he stopped moving, he laid on the ground, sprawled out with his hands and feet in all directions, panting like no tomorrow.

The American winced in pain, and lifted his head up to see that his clothes had been completely ruined by the rolling. His feet were mostly hurt, covered with friction burns and cuts all over. But at least he was out, and with the small weight in his pocket, he was sure that he had succeeded in his mission. Taking a few moments to relax, he then brought his body off of the ground. It wouldn't be long until they would realise that he had made it out and give chase, and who knew if the bike was still operational? In any way, he at least had more of a chance of a completely successful escape back home now that he was out of the foreign establishment.

However, his relief was short felt, as through the headset, he suddenly heard a bloodcurdling scream from an all too familiar voice. What had happened? Was Arthur still inside? He had to be, as he had been too far away from the exit to have gotten out yet. Stumbling around, Alfred quickly spoke into the headset. "Shit, dude, are you alright?! What the hell is going on?"

Arthur slapped the trouserleg and smothered it in snow but the cold effect was agonising, like the opposite of warming your hands up after frostbite. He bit his lips together and groaned in pain, the fire spread up to his shirt and he bashed that out even more frantically before it reached the experiment data, even though it was deep in the snow below him.

He breathed hard and squinted one eye open to gain a hazy image of the burning copter preventing any more people coming out at him through the fence in that direction, like a huge bonfire set up to last the whole night and roaring in front of people calmly roasting sausages, he wished he was home eating fucking sausages right now. He heard the frantic static voice in his ear and took a few more forced, gulping breaths before reaching up to open the connection.

"I-I'm out. I'm out I- I-..." He took a few more painful breaths feeling the copterblade rub painfully against his left shoulderblade, pinned between the edge of his ribs. It was a miracle a lung wasn't punctured but it was staining the snow red. "I'm okay." He gasped and whispered the last words painfully. "I came out past the copter like I said. It'll be easy enough to find now."

Alfred gulped and spoke into the headset while carefully picking the bike up. "Are you hurt? I heard you scream and shit... Oh God, dude. I knew I shouldn'tve left you there. Is there anyone near you, like one of them? Can you make it to the ren-dez-vous?"

"I-I don't know." Arthur gulped, wondering if there was blood in his throat or not. "The exit I used is blocked. I don't- I don't think anyone else will follow me for a while. I'm injured to the shoulder, various burns on my right leg. But alive, I'm fine, the data is safe."

"Great. I mean, it's good to know that you're still living." He nodded to himself as he rolled the bike over. "Are 'ya sure that you don't need me to get back in there? I mean, you can move, can't you?"

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut again and clenched his jaw before resting his head back again. "I-I'll try, just need to... To get this shrapnel out. Just a second." He cut the connection for a moment so that Alfred couldn't hear and stretched his free arm across, gripping the shrapnel in his gloved hand and hissing three numbers through his teeth before pulling as hard and quickly as he could. He roared with pain and chucked the bloody thing away, loosing his left shoulder again as the shoulderblade was freed up, he took some more painful groaning breaths, listening to his heart beat in his ears. Suddenly his breathing became harder and wheezy, like his lungs just didn't want to fill up anymore making him gag, pulling out the blade must've cut his lungs slightly, only a little.

A puncture could have been worse as all the air flushed out and he deflated to a breathless state, but this one was alright but still made it difficult. He lifted a hand to open the connection again and let Alfred hear him again. "Okay." He wheezed. "Okay, I'm alright but-" He gulped again. "Slight lung puncture, I think. Where's the ren-dez-vous point again?" His eyes rolled a little as his head began to swim. "Just remind me."

The American was just about to begin to drive off, as the bike had luckily survived skidding through feet of tarmac and snow. However, he paused and allowed a look of scared confusion to spread across his face (it was alright, as no one was watching him. Hopefully.) as he replied to the Brit. "Shit, dude. You're going to need to get that checked out, okay?" He coughed a bit, feeling an odd tickle in his throat but dismissed it and carried on. He was getting slightly more than worried. Arthur wasn't one to forget places, especially important ones such as the ren-dez-vous. "We're meeting up just in the next town, five miles to the west. The motel, remember?"

"Five miles?" Arthur gasped. "I can't walk that. I'm sorry I can't. Not with this leg." He grunted, pushing himself up into a painful sit and eyeing the blood on the snow. After a moment he rolled forwards, right leg screaming with pain before he lifted his left leg and pushed himself onto it, straightening the burnt flesh on his right, and trying not to look at the melted trouserleg or dead malformed skin he feared he would see on it, he stood for a moment, assessing his strength. "I could make a mile possibly in that direction."

"Shit. I don't think we can get help until we reach the town." Alfred slowed down on the bike. "I don't know the area. Do you think there's any landmarks that way?"

"I don't think so, I'll find something, just keep in contact. Okay?" Arthur turned around like a ballet dancer, spinning delicately on his toes and dragging the other foot through the snow, blood dripping ungracefully from the hole in his shoulder before stumbling forwards, crouching painfully. "I'll make it just get that stick away. If things get edgy i'll plant the data somewhere and tell you how to find it. If you don't get it then at least the Vietnamese won't have it either."

He kept his bike on a fairly slow speed. He didn't want to get too far away, in case he had to go and pick up the Englishman if he was getting chased by them. A thought of that happening and him not being quick enough to get there crossed his mind, but he only let out a frown and shook it off. "You don't think that they're gonna come after you, do you? I mean, you sound really weak. Do they know of your position?"

Arthur glanced around at the burning copter, his frenzied footsteps in the snow which might be covered by snowfall. True, but then there was that trail of blood he was leaving... He continuously lifted a hand to the hole in his chest to prevent blood flow and helping his lungs a little, but the sucking he felt on his hand as he breathed was unnerving. "Uh... Probably. Unless there's a blizzard."

Glancing up at the sky, the American shook his head and replied. "No, the sky looks way too clear for that, despite it being a freak winter. Keep yourself safe for now. And if they find you... Well, uh... God help us all."

"You have the memory stick and that's most important, and you know I won't tell them anything. I'll either leave the comms unit with the evidence or destroy it so that they can't use it to track down you okay? If there's still a signal, you know you'll find the experiment data there, so I think it's a job well do- Ah-ha." He paused and tensed for a moment, feeling his heart lurch and taking some gulping breaths before standing straight again and grunting. "A- a job well done. Just start moving, okay?"

"Huh?" He blinked. "But where the hell am I going to find you?"

"I don't know just get out, take the memory stick to a safe place and come back to find me, what matters most is that you and the data is safe, okay? That's the first priority, not me."

"But dude! You're hurt! And you sound like... Well, crap. I can't just leave you behind!"

"Yes, you can! Just go, America!" Arthur yelled slightly in irritation, staggering further into the snow towards the shelter of trees. "This is not up for discussion. Just get the FUCK out of here!"

Alfred involuntarily gave an expression of a kicked puppy, he nearly stopped the bike at Arthur's words, especially when he swore into the headset. "But... The hero doesn't leave people behind... Ever."

"You have more important things to think about that being a fucking hero." Arthur hissed. "Just go, now! That's an order!"

The American nation gulped. He didn't like being ordered around like this. Not by anyone. Especially not by Arthur. "...Roger. Find a landmark and keep the line clear. I'll try and get there as soon as I can."

Arthur sighed with light relief and calmed again, continuing to stagger forwards. "Agreed, I'll update every ten minutes."

**(TBC...)**

**A/N: AAaaaaand, it starts getting violent here. And quite tense D; ARTHUUUR'S IN TROUBLE.**  
**Wahoo! Thanks for all the reviews so far, we very much appreciate them and your support!**


	5. A Rather Non Jubilant Capture

**Chapter Four**

A Rather Non-Jubilant Capture

**_Largo: Do you lose as gracefully as you win?  
James Bond: I wouldn't know._**

**_-James Bond, Never say Never Again_**

It was early morning when Alfred pulled into the sleepy town. The stars were still out, shining down from the sky. He had seen the light of the town way before the rest of it, and now understood why. All lights were still on, for the shops, streetlights and etcetera. However, it was also deathly quiet. The streets were completely deserted. No people, no cars, no signs of life except for the few who were working at the clearly lit shops. The silence of the journey had given the American time to think about what he would try to do if his companion was captured. Not that he wanted to imagine the Brit being taken away like that, of course not. However, the thoughts just wouldn't go away.

Arthur's updates were always precise and brief, but they were a nice difference to the otherwise silent landscape. The last he had heard of the Englishman had told him that he was still alive and very much kicking. But he knew that there was something wrong, still.

He pulled to the ren-dez-vous spot, a motel which he hoped would be empty enough for him to book a couple of rooms. He walked into the building, where he managed to get himself and Arthur separate rooms from a bored looking receptionist, who had at first looked like he was going to fall asleep before seeing the rather worn-down Alfred walk in. It took a few moments for the American to realise why the receptionist looked so scared, but then noticed that he was still wearing the ripped up clothing from before. He noticed that his skin had been ripped as well, and slight trails of blood had been absorbed by his clothing.

He dragged himself to the room, 1201, and as soon as he stumbled inside, he picked up a coca cola can from the minifridge and crashed his body atop the bed, nearly spilling the contents of the can onto the bedsheet. After a few minutes of laying on the bed, face first, he pulled himself up, and found the safe to put the memory stick in. Consequently, he thought of a good combination and sat back onto the bed, waiting for Arthur's latest update.

But the update never came.

**(****************************)**

Arthur spat on the ground at that point, bile mixed with blood dripping over the guards boot that was implanted in the snow before him. He'd settled for a moment, just to rest for the night. He'd climbed up a tree to break the blood trail and had hunkered down. Leaving the experimental data buried underneath a bush with the comms unit rigged into the twigs above it, hidden in the dark branches for Alfred to find if anything went wrong overnight.

Which it had.

"What do you want?" He hissed. His back was being pressed down as he was restrained before the commander, kneeling down as the two 'enemy' men behind stepped on his back against the wound on his shoulder and the other held a gun to his head. "You're being very friendly."

One of the men, a bloke of average height and an oddly stocky build and was most probably the leader of whatever group these people who had found the Englishman were, glared down at Arthur. "Where is it?"

"What? Your slut wife?"

The man snarled and kicked the Brit's face with his boot. Hard. "You were seen escaping with files from our laboratory. Irreplaceable files. Not to mention, your companion was seen with what we believe is a copy of our database. Where are they?"

"I think you have the wrong guy." Arthur continued, spitting out a tooth and tasting blood from his nose and mouth. "I don't have any of those things."

Not batting an eyelid, the man slid a hand under Arthur's chin. "Your trail of blood coming down from our base tells us otherwise. Now, I recommend you tell us the truth. Otherwise things could get very... Painful for you."

"And I'm telling you, I haven't got it. The other guy does, but he's probably left the country by now."

"Oh yes, the other guy." He mused, before staring down at the Brit. "We're taking you in. Come on."

"You got tea where I'm going?" Arthur chattered casually as they roughly stood him up, acting like they were inviting him over to their house for a nice friendly tea party. "I could use some of that. I hear the sugar here's very good too."

The man seemed to have quite a short temper, but rather than yell at the English nation, he took a curt breath, and barked an order at one of the people dragging Arthur, who, along with the other man holding him up, dropped the Brit and proceeded to whack him with the butt of their rifle on the back of the blonde's head with a fair amount of force, hoping to either deliver great harm, or knock him out. Both would have been quite excellent. Arthur yelped lightly but gritted his teeth and let out the least amount of noise he could, turning his head away and staying for a moment with before blowing the hair out of his eyes and standing straight again. "I'll take that as a no then." He continued, speaking as if he was hosting people at his own house and was trying to stay polite after they'd pissed on his expensive, arabian carpet. "Any liquor at all?"

The man, without any warning, turned around and stepped forward, gripping the Englishman by the neck. He made sure to wrap his whole hand around the nation's throat and began to strangle the Brit. Only after he heard a noise of pain he spoke out, cold and harsh. "Brave? Is that what you think you are? You're at the mercy of your enemy and you think that acting like a wise pig is going to help you?" He then constricted his hand around Arthur's throat harder. "You're thirsty? Hm, how is no water, or any liquids of any sort, going to suit you, princess?"

"Fish and chip's'll do then." Arthur wheezed, raising a hand and separating his index finger and thumb slightly. "With just a smidgeon of vinegar, please."

"Oh, did you hear that, boys? He's hungry, too. I'm afraid you'll be much disappointed." He gave a curt laugh. "I think I'm going to enjoy having you around."

Arthur smiled brightly and put the tips of his fingers together. "Oh, yes! The most delectable fun. Do any of you speak english?"

The man didn't reply to the question, instead, he eased his hand around the neck, dropped it, and signalled to one of the asian men holding the Brit. The man consequently nodded, and then, with all his might, smacked Arthur with his metallic rifle, allowing his body to drop to the snow covered floor. Arthur's head snapped forward and his head went blank, not even realising what had happened before the world seemed to stop around him, his body crumpled beneath him and he collapsed forwards, face in the snow and unmoving.

The men waited for a few moments, waiting to see if the Brit had been completely knocked out or not. After about five minutes, they presumed that the Englishman was unconscious, and began dragging the man again, this time hardly bothering to pick him up, and instead pulling him by his hands and allowing his body to slide through the cold snow, all the way back to the base.

**(****************************)**

Alfred had endured a restless night of sleep, waking up every three hours or so to either check the other room to see if the Englishman had turned up in the end (which he hadn't), or putting his headset on to listen to any noises until he fell back asleep with the headset still on.

It was late morning, and the American was slightly more than worried. Panicked, even. This shouldn't be happening. Things should have gone as planned. Arthur should have turned up at the ren-dez-vous, he should be here. They should be arguing about something stupid like food or cultural differences. What had happened? Had he collapsed from exhaustion? Had he fallen, or gotten too ill to speak? What if he was dying, and Alfred had simply let it happen, knowing that he had deserted the Brit. What if Arthur had been... Captured?

His eyes widened. _No!_ He shook his head. _No, no, no! _Arthur was too smart to let himself be captured. And besides, if that had happened, he'd go back and... Rescue the nation himself. Because that's what heroes did. They rescued.

Whatever the case, he picked up the telephone and dialled the number of officials back at his home to alert them of the situation. Maybe they'd be able to help him. The unique tone continued for a few seconds before swiftly answered by a stern voice. "Hello?"

"Uh, hey. It's me here." He replied, oddly nervous. He hoped that they'd recognise him from both his number and possibly his voice. "I was told to report on mission progress on this number?"

"Yes, that's right, what is it, Alfred?"

"I've retrieved my part of the data, and it's secure." He said, looking at the safe in the corner of the room. "Can't say the same for... England. He went AWOL around two A.M. this morning, and hasn't returned. We had to split up as we were getting away, and the last I heard of him was a brief update of him hitting up with some forestland. I think he was injured, but anything could've happened."

"The most important thing is that you got the information. I'll set up a ren-dez-vous site to collect you and the intel."

"Alright, thanks." He nodded, going to the mini fridge to find some snacks. "Get it done as soon as possible."

"Alright sir, we'll meet at the outskirts of the town you're in now in 2300 hours."

"Roger." He nodded.

"Good, see you later." A click from the speaker followed by a long, dull sound indicated the call was cut off from the other end.

He placed the phone down on the other side of the bed, and bounced his own body onto the springy thing while holding a packet of chips. He reached for the remote and flicked from channel to channel on the small television in the far corner of the room, trying to find a television station he'd understand. This would be a long day to wait through.

**(TBC...)**

**A/N: ENGLAND! NOOOO!**

***Ahem* **

**We're quite on a roll with getting these chapters out, aren't we? Oh well. I hope you guys are okay with that xD I've just been pacing myself with the editing, and the job is quite quick, so it's all good. Stay tuned!**


	6. A Smidge of Unpleasantness

**Chapter Five:**

A smidge of Unpleasantness 

_**Mishkin: You will tell me everything you know about the Goldeneye satellite.**_

_**Bond: What, no small talk? No chit-chat?**_

_**-James Bond, Goldeneye.**_

**Pre-Chapter A/N: This chapter is contains a slight bit of torture towards the interrogation section, violence and drug abuse. If that's a trigger for you, you've been warned. **

Arthur rolled his head a little and tried not to groan. The pain in the back of his head was unbearable and the ringing in his ears just wouldn't shut up. He blearily cracked his eyes open, but the visual information was so distorted was that he couldn't make sense out of anything he actually could see. He closed his eyes again and tried to feel his situation instead. His right leg was stinging all over with the burn, so nothing could really be felt otherwise and the puncture on his shoulder made it hard to concentrate on anything else. The headache didn't help either.

Suddenly, a voice spoke out, not too far away. "Are you awake, prisoner?" Arthur gathered bile and spat at the wall in answer, not that he could see the wall. Probably taking his spitting as a 'yes', a few uniformed men walked into the small, sterile room. The floor was tiled, and the walls were blank white. In fact, there was nothing really in the room except for a desolate looking operating table which was adorned with several leather straps.

There were a few barked orders as men roughly picked the nation up. Arthur growled and pulled with his healthy arm, but that only hurt his shoulder and the movements were weak with his dizzy head, so he couldn't do much. Yet he still managed to shift his healthy foot back and trip one of the guards up. To a stumble at least, they quickly stamped hard on his foot, twisting his knees in the process making him cry out and be still from then on.

They tossed the man onto the operating table, and without giving him much time to realise what was going on, quickly strapped the leather belts around his limbs and midsection, hoping to restrict movement completely. The leader of the men that had dragged Arthur to this place stood over him again, seemingly more pleased that the Englishman was much more vulnerable now. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, thanks." Arthur grunted back, voice weak but managing to open his eyes and gaze steadily back at the general without fear. "A bit of a rude awakening, though, but you can work on that."

"You'll find that we're not very pleasant to our enemies." He replied, keeping the equally cool tone. He must've signalled to one of the men, as all of the sudden, one of them began stripping Arthur's shirt off by slitting it off with a small knife. The discreet door at the far side of the small room opened, and a couple of men more walked in. One of them was pushing a trolley, stocked high with chemicals of various colours and syringes on the bottom compartment. Another carried in a filming camera and a pricey looking tripod, and began to set it up, in perfect view of the operating room table. "Maybe, you could co-operate and become one of our friends?"

"And polish all your neat little shoes?" Arthur replied patronisingly. "Tell you what, if I polish yours, will you polish mine? All of mine? Maybe you could cook for me at the same time, or I'll just serve your dead body, or your own severed head on a sweet dish; one or the other, you choose."

"It was a suggestion, nothing more." He gave the Brit a light smile, clearly enjoying the banter. "Now, to business. You were asleep for a fair while. Enough time for us to very closely examine video recordings of your... Acts. Firstly, would you be as kind as to tell us of your name?"

"John Smith." Arthur replied simply without fail, smiling a little. "Or just _Smithy._"

A man in the far corner began to write something down in his clipboard, but the leader raised his hand to make him pause writing. "Who are you working for?"

"Myself."

He rolled his eyes, suddenly bringing his gloved hand to trace around Arthur's strapped down wrist. He quickly flipped the hand over, exposing his vulnerable palm. He then looked over to make sure that the camera was filming, and barked an order to the man closest to the trolley of drugs, who, in an instant, began to fill up one of the syringes with an oddly neon blue liquid. "With all due respect, we don't believe that one man can simply waltz into one of the most secure bases of this country, by himself and for no reason. Not to mention, there was your comrade, of whom we will get to soon enough. Now, before we have to get unpleasant, tell us again: Who. Do. You. Work. _For_?"

Arthur rose an eyebrow and smirked. "You don't know when to believe somebody, do you? I'm not lying. I work for myself. I have no idea who the other guy works for, but who gives a shit, eh?"

"And what was your motivation for stealing documents about what we conduct in our laboratories?"

The prisoner shrugged calmly. "Not my problem. Was his idea."

"And yet you say you work for only yourself?"

"I _was_ going to get paid. Do you not know anything?"

The man observed Arthur for a brief few moments, just like a predator observing doomed prey. He then reached out for the syringe and twiddled it in his hand for a brief minute or two. "I strangely have a hard time believing you. Maybe we could persuade you to become a little more... _Open_ with some help." He then held up the syringe in hand, showing the bright liquid against the bright light of the room. "Do you know what this is?"

"Tetanus jab?" Arthur tested brightly, like a little school boy.

"In your dreams, prisoner." He rolled his eyes. "We've only ever done animal tests with this stuff, so you shall be the first human to actually try this drug out. Granted, there _may _be some side-effects that didn't turn out on the rats, and a few that did. Like the...Intense pain-"

"Death?" Arthur interrupted brightly. "Terrible agony? Depression? Hallucinations that'll turn me suicidal? A horrible symptom that will turn my head into a sunflower? Don't let any Russians in. Oh, I'll blow bubbles or turn into a ten foot rabid seahorse or maybe laugh to death, yes, that's it. Terrible agony through death of laughter. Very fun."

The man looked at him blankly for a few long minutes, possibly questioning the Brit's sanity. He then shook out of it, and carefully brought the syringe down to his arm. "Well, we'll see. I guess there's a lot of fun in _not _knowing." He then jabbed the needle into the skin, pushing down into the vein until the entirety of the four centimeter point was no longer visible, and then began injecting the blue serum into Arthur. Arthur jerked lightly on the table and hissed, trying to relax his fist to lessen the pain but finding it hard.

"Wow." He muttered. "Burns a bit, sure it's not just blue acid?"

"You'll find out very, very soon." He replied, grinning toothily and motioning towards the camera, which was pulled closer. "During the lab tests on the rats, the miniature doses had caused quite the adverse reaction. Rodents would run around in the cages, squealing in pain before fainting from exhaustion. We can't wait to see how a much larger dose on you will balance out." He then took the syringe away, wondering if the dose had been too much.

"Oh, that's just cheerful." Arthur muttered looking down at his wrist and stretching the fingers uncomfortably. "How long did it take until they died?"

He laughed, "Fortunately for us, after about a week of waking up, only to run around in pain and then collapsing again, they recovered. Weren't quite the same, but hopefully neither will you be when we are done."

"Ah, so no death then?"

"That is what I said." He replied, looking down at his expensive watch. The rats usually began reacting in the half minute. "We did give you a much larger dose; probably too much even for a human of your mass, so we'll find out."

"Alright then. This'll be interesting." Arthur replied, the shifting gradually moving up to him rolling his shoulder in discomfort. "It's only been half a minute... Wow, that's strong stuff-" He gagged and clenched his jaw slightly, grinding his teeth and straining his neck. "OW! _wassat_?" He slurred, cheeks and neck twitching made it hard to speak, as he felt the drug spill out from his shoulder and move across his chest, rising in his neck a little but mostly going towards his heart.

From there it would circulate his lungs and then spread across the whole body. He regained some more control of his head and worked his jaw a little before spitting bile again that had built up from the short attack. His other shoulder twitched as the mass of it reached his heart and burned inside. "What exactly's-innit?"

The man gave a smile. "That's for us to know, and you to find out." He then gave the Brit a teasing and patronising tap on the forehead with his gloved fingers. All the while, the man with the clipboard jotted various notes down. "How does it feel?"

"_Why don't you join me and find out?_" Arthur offered calmly, the wound on his shoulder stinging even more as the drug leaked from his heart and into it.

He laughed, mockingly. "And suffer like the rats did? I'd rather not be reduced to that." He then smirked, and strode over, looking at the different chemicals. He seemed to dismiss the men, as all but one (the one operating the camera) left the room. "This is rather entertaining, mister Smith, _if that is your real name-_ which, in any case, we'll find that out fairly soon."

"Like fuck you will." Arthur murmured. His chest seized up and he convulsed on the chair for a moment, struggling to move his diaphragm and breathe again as the liquid caged around and inside it. He strained and choked before managing to wheeze again, shivering for a moment before collapsing his head back onto the table and breathing heavily. "You're not going to stand there and watch then are you?" He grunted through breaths, feeling the fire return to his heart and then spread out fast, making him squirm slightly as his chest burned but otherwise stay mostly in control for the moment.

"What makes you think I won't?" He cocked a brow, leaning over the writhing English nation. "They don't usually enjoy watching the next part, so I sent them out. But I promised one of the guys to keep notes, as he's researching what exactly the stuff does to your body."

Arthur worked his jaw again and spat bile and blood into the other man's eye. "Thanks for leaning over, mate."

He angrily wiped the vile mixture away from his eyeball; despite going through pain-endurance training to get to the position he was now in, it stung, and it stung hard. Furious, he screamed in hurt and anger and picked up a scalpel from the tray and sunk it into the exposed injury near Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur cried out in pain, shuddering with the added effect of the drug, groaning and pulling away as much as he could, his healed lung punctured fully this time and the air burst out leaving him breathless and silent, drowning in his own blood. He gurgled and lolled his head to the side slightly with the pain, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth but still bravely struggling.

He seemed to hiss something through the blood but it was unintelligible and there wasn't enough air to make much of a noise by now anyway. The glowering whites of Arthur's eye burned onto the man's face with warning hatred but otherwise the country could do nothing to defend himself.

The man looked down at the blood, somewhat happy with himself, and somewhat regretting the lack of a bucket. From the surplus of the red liquid, they probably were going to need one to collect it up. Oh, well; when dry, at least the bloody table would look more menacing. Not bothering to pull the scalpel out, he stepped back into the shadows, waiting until Arthur would hopefully lose consciousness from the pain. The sleepy state often allowed ample time for the drug to start to work, which he needed to happen before any more of the interrogation could go on.

Arthur squirmed slowly, chest pumping but not making any noise apart from a gurgle in the wound where the scalpel punctured and a couple of bubbles from his mouth. The chest moved faster and he looked down with gritted teeth as the drug reached the burnt flesh. He pulled against it desperately and opened his mouth in a silent and croaky scream as it felt as if his leg was on fire all over again. The table strained as he jerked against the straps holding him down and his hands gripped onto the sides until they hurt.

Things continued to get worse until his ability as a country tortured him further as it healed his lung, sewing it together and allowing him to scream, the blood locked inside it and half drowning him even as his body innocently fixed itself. After five minutes he vomited to his side and pissed himself which was thankfully covered by the trousers. After ten minutes he began to groan and gag as he lost his energy, red faced with the blood flow with one eye bloodshot because of the pressure his heart put on the veins. In just fifteen minutes he'd passed out, no longer shouting but still convulsing unconsciously on the table, scalpel still sticking out of his chest as if it'd been there his whole life.

The leader had watched the whole thing, observing carefully as the English nation struggled torturously. A few minutes after Arthur's eyes closed, he felt it was safe to finally walk forwards and quickly yank the grey knife out, slight blood squirting out at the action. He placed it back on the trolley quickly, as if he was touching something dirty, the blade dripping red substance all over the floor. He hummed to himself and nodded to the cameraman, before giving Arthur's head another small tap and walking out of the room with the other man on his tail, leaving the knocked out nation in the room, alone.

(****************************)

The flight was a long one, although the plane that Alfred was on was abnormally fast and made no stops, it still took more than half of a full day for the flight itself. The handing in of the memory stick had gone fairly smoothly, and according to the people who had picked it up, he had gotten the right information, if not more. At least he was now safely home, which was more than what he would have said about his situation a little more than twenty four hours ago, when he had been held at gunpoint. He still thanked God that he had made it out of that.

He had been informed that he was due to a meeting in a few days time to discuss how the mission had gone. Nothing had been said about Arthur, so the American assumed that he had made it to a safe-place of his own or been picked up by his own men. Thoughts of the Englishman being captured, or worse, had completely left his mind, and Alfred was now looking forward to chatting to the Briton about how the mission had passed in the next world meeting. Discreetly, obviously, as if Vietnam herself found out that it had been both him and Arthur who had collected intel, there'd be _hell _to pay.

**(TBC..)**

**A/N: We apologise for the... Darkness of the chapter. Don't worry! Arthur will be okay...**

**For now. Ish.**

**We can't guarantee anything yet. O.O**

**What did they give Arthur? You will find out soon enough xD (It get's quite entertaining xDDDDDD)**

**Oh well, we hope you're enjoying it despite the dark themes Dx Have a nice day! And stay tuned!**


	7. Repetition of a Title

**Chapter Six**

Repetition of a Title.

**James Bond: Do you expect me to talk?**

**Auric Goldfinger:No, Mr. Bond. I expect you to die. **

**-James Bond, Goldfinger. **

Arthur groaned a little even though he knew he shouldn't make a noise to alert them that he was awake. He suddenly felt like he could say anything, even if he didn't want to. That was weird. His head shifted and he winced at the headache that pounded even worse than before, his whole body tingled with remnants of something, and movements that used too much strength hurt as if he was an elastic band: if stretched too much, the rubber would get warm with the tension. Something prefered him to be nice and strapped up, dangling from one finger like a loose glob of jelly, making no movements of his own, but a normal child could stretch him again whenever it wanted to. "Elastic band..." He murmured for no real reason, normally he did have a reason before he said things but there was that niggling feeling, making him say more than he wanted to. "Hot... Ow, my head. Fuck life, is it me or is it bright in here? You never know... Shit, I pissed myself."

Suddenly, a bright light shone into the Brit's face, blinding and relentless. When it finally pulled away, it was revealed to be one of the men with a small flashlight, pointing into Arthur's eyes. He then asked the nation. "Can you see?"

"Pfft, yeah. Your ugly face is wonderful to look at." Arthur retorted. "Get that fucking light out of my eyes. God, I'm hungry. Ewww, is that puke too? That's what stinks so much."

There was a command from somewhere further back in the room, and the man with the flashlight backed away and picked up a clipboard. The leader from before suddenly stepped forward with a somewhat pleased look on the face. "What is your name?"

"Which one?"

The leader looked confused for a second, then rolled his eyes. "All of them. But start with your... Birth name."

"Umm... I don't remember that that one but I remember first being called the tin islands. Then Brittania, then I called myself Albion-"

"YOUR NAME." He yelled at Arthur, frustrated, "Not your... Code name, or whatever. The name that you were born with!"

Arthur looked confused before stating something in ancient celtic. "I was called that once."

He turned to one of the men at the back, who was wearing a neat suit rather than a uniform.

"He's talking in a language I can't recognise in now. Is it English? Whatever, just talk to him in his language and get whatever you can out of him. We need his name for now. First and last name. And any codename if you can get out of him, too. But the first and last are priority."

The other man stepped forwards, and straightened his clothing a bit before nodding the Brit a slightly nervewracked, "Hello. Erm, we'd like to know your name." in English.

Arthur cocked his head again. "Which one?"

"Your first and last name, thank you."

"The 'tin islands' was first and Great Britain was last one, the newest. I was called that in the seventeen hundreds or so. Apart from if you want to be more specific, then it's just England."

The man stared at England with a look of complete and utter puzzlement splashed across his features. He then turned to face the leader and spoke to him. "He thinks he's... England. You must have given him a dose too large, he's delirious."

"How dare you say that! I'm not delirious! You're delirious! You asked for my name!"

"Then, what is your name?!" The translator asked, slightly frustrated. "We've asked you a few times now, and you are not giving us a straight answer!"

Arthur frowned at them before stating seriously. "The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. There, that's my full and complete name. But don't tell Scotland that, Wales might not mind but, SCOTLAND! Eehhhh... You just don't want to know about Scotland."

The leader rolled his eyes when Arthur's words were translated to him. "Fine, just ask who he's working for." The translator then turned to England with a nod and asked the question.

"My friend America. Well not friend, he's an utter bastard, but recently we've been getting along. The president's nice anyway, so when he asked I decided it would be alright to go along with him."

"You were asked to conduct this mission... By the president of America?"

"Well, I probably shouldn't say. You're not very nice people, I mean I can't even have tea or fish and chips. Even a biscuit would do. I'm famished! Especially with my last meal running down my back, honestly, just one thing to eat would make you nicer people. I don't like talking to bad people."

The translator nervously translated the words to the Vietnamese leader who briskly pushed the man out of the way and stepped over to Arthur, grabbing his chin in hand while hissing his question. "Are you or are you not with the Americans?"

"Gimme a biscuit, please." Arthur murmured past the fingers roughly pushing his cheeks in and trying not to look like a fish at the same time. "Why can't you just give me a biscuit? I miss owning India... They always gave me bloody biscuits! And tea..."

The man laughed for a second, but then stopped almost as instantly as he began. "Answer the question, or we will not hesitate in giving you a stronger dosage of the drug. Do you want to go back to the pain?"

"No, not really, Then I'd need... Two biscuits."

The leader rolled his eyes and motioned to the trolley of syringes and chemicals that was still at the side of the room. The man holding the clipboard, who had frantically been jotting notes down, carefully passed him a syringe of blue. "We are not kidding. You have ten seconds to tell us if you are working with the Americans or not, or we give you a stronger dose."

"No! No don't give me another dose!" He cried out, wriggling on the table again with no self restraint whatsoever. "Not another dose! No, I don't want that!"

"Then, please, if you wish to not be subjected to more of the serum, answer the question."

"Anything! Anything!"

The uniformed man raised his hand, and swung it around to deliver Arthur's face a hard slap, before grabbing the hand itself and menacingly holding the needle close to the wrist. "Answer. The. Question."

"But, it's a bad question!" Arthur burst out in protest, not knowing what to do. "I don't know what you've done, but I sound like Italy for Christ's sake! That pasta loving bastard! Don't make me answer that question please, not to bad people! I can't answer that question, I don't want to! I don't want another dose, just stop it!"

"I've had enough." He rolled his eyes and lifted Arthur's wrist perfectly for the needle and nodded to the man with the clipboard. "I'm giving him another dose. Write that down."

"NOO!" Arthur protested loudly as they jabbed him with the second dose, crying without realising it. "It hurts! It really hurts! Why are you so mean?! I'll kill you, I'll come back and kill you! MI6'll come! And- and America! And-" His throat seized up again and any further speech came forth as mindless gurgles and other random noises and he writhed in the seat taking a shorter amount of time to be knocked out than the last.

The translator walked to the leader as all watched the English nation wriggle and writhe in pain as the serum coursed inside of Arthur, burning. "I think that he may be in cahoots with both the Americans and the English. He wouldn't be yelling those things if he wasn't."

"I know that he is." The leader replied. "I was just hoping to get information that was a bit more specific without having to give him a worse dosage. His tongue will be a little more slippery, but we predict that he may start spouting nonsense and/or hallucinating from the strength of the drug. If he doesn't start properly co-operating, I'll have to start jabbing him with the painful stuff, which I don't want to do, because it may knock him out again, and the quicker we extract the information from him, the better. At least we now know who to send the tapes to."

The translator looked over the gurgling Brit, and gritted teeth. He had seen clips of Arthur's first dose, and from the screams, it didn't look too pleasant. The leader said it like he had something that was even _more_ painful than the truth serum, which he had trouble imagining. One thing still stuck to his mind. "I wonder why he called himself England."

"The poison was probably too strong. He said many strange things also, so I believe that he may have already began hallucinating. If not, you said it yourself, he may have become delirious. I doubt it's anything that important to ponder over."

**(TBC...)**

**A/N: Sorry about the shortness of the chapter. It was too long to be conjoined with the next segment and too short for my liking. Oh well. I hope that it's still alright for your liking xDDD**

**Thanks for all the reviews and support so far! 3**


	8. Beginnings of Outside Involvement

**Chapter Seven:**

Beginnings of Outside Involvement.

_**Bond: Vodka Martini.**_

_**Bartender: Shaken or stirred?**_

_**Bond: Do I look like I give a damn?**_

_**-James Bond, Casino Royale.**_

(Meanwhile, at a suburban area of Washington D.C.)

"Hey dudes! Guess what? Just made it to level thirty six!~ Booyah!" A fourteen-year-old teen cheered with excitement, sitting back on the leather sofa that stood at the corner of the cosy room, tilting slightly for support with tight fists held in the air above his head as he yelled in triumph.

"Awh, what the hell?" A slightly younger boy pouted, "I thought I was gonna get there before ya! No fair! I've been playing for WAY longer than you!"

"Yeah, but dude. You're talking to the KING of gaming! I rock at everything!"

"What about 'Halo'?" He replied, grinning ear to ear. "I THRASHED your butt at that!"

"Pffft, Halo's easy, and no, you didn't! The game glitched up."

"Yeah, right. AFTER I shot at you."

"I couldn't see what the frickin hell I was doing!"

"Excuses, excuses! You're just too much of a wimp to say that I won, because I'm younger than you."

"As if!"

"Hey guys, what'd I miss?" said a boy of similar age, walking into the room with three tin cans of soda in his hands.

"Nothing!" The youngest blurted out, not wanting the newcomer know of the other's latest gaming achievement. "Nothing at all!"

"HAH! As if it's nothing! I just got upto-"

The boy practically swatted a hand over the elder's mouth while yelling, "SHUT IT!" At the top of his lungs. After he noticed that the other two were looking at him rather awkwardly, he coughed a little to clear his mouth and grinned. "I mean, nobody likes a brag."

The older teen just pushed the younger away with irritation. "And no one likes a sore-loser. I got level 36!"

"Really?" The third teen asked in surprise.

"Yeah, yeah." The youngest rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. He then noticed the cans of soda and hopped about with excitement. "Whoah, dude! You brought the goods! Gimme, gimme, gimme!"

"Fine! Fine! Take it, jeez, you really love this stuff." the third boy retorted, passing it to the other boy but keeping one can for himself.

"He he!" He grabbed the can, practically ripping the top off and guzzled down the drink like an alcoholic who had been sober for a month and just gained a fresh bottle of vodka.

The oldest of the lot just sat boredly in his chair irritably, elbow resting on the desk by his mouse, chin in palm. "Back to the game, eh?"

"Hey, wait for me, I'm coming on, too!" The third boy protested, jumping onto a computer and kicking it to turn on faster. "Multiplayer, then, let's go!"

"Wait up, guys!" He grabbed a laptop that had already been turned on and had been laying on the bed. "Awh, crap. It's logged me out again, lemme sign back in and we'll get started."

"Yeah, well hurry it, 'cause I'm not waiting forever, dude!"

"Shut it! It's loading!"

"Well, come on! I wanna play it now! I'm just about to get the new plasma gun! I just need one more level!"

"Hey, dudes, got mail. let'me check it fast." The oldest teen said as he closed his gaming window and opened a web browser to log into his hotmail. "Oh, cool. It's on the account I hacked from dad. He gets all the cool government-y stuff, which is actually fun to read."

"Mail? Dude, who do you get this one from?" The third teen questioned, leaving his gaming screen waiting for the last teen and standing up to have a bored look at the mail screen. "What does'it say?"

"I dunno, just opening it now. Hey look, it's got a video. Play it?"

"Yeah! Come on! Play it!"

"Hells, yeah!" The youngest bounced about, having had clearly too much of the fizzy stuff to drink.

"Okay! Okay, hold your horses!" The oldest laughed before clicking on the video file, filling the screen it played automatically. The clip was first dark, before white text appearing on the screen, displaying the date that had been only three days ago, before disappearing and revealing a camera shot of a blonde man strapped to an operating room table.

"What the heck, dude? Is this like a trailer for something?" the youngest commented.

"Well he's lost his top, so maybe. Pretty weird, though. It doesn't look like it's been filmed by professionals, though. Look, the camera's staying in the same place, boooriiiing." the third boy pointed out.

"Dudes, just shut up and watch." The oldest complained, looking back to the screen, turning it so it filled his large desktop monitor.

The youngest observed as the man was answering questions in another language, the people asking him starting to get seemingly more and more annoyed. "Oh, SICK. Do you think that... Injury is like, real?! It looks kinda legit."

"It does, doesn't it?" The third boy murmured worriedly. "Hey, who did you get this vid from, again?"

"No, idea man." The oldest replied. "Let me check." he minimized the video, and looked to the address. "Ehh... It doesn't say."

"An anonymous sender? It's spam dude, somebody's gonna infect your PC or somin'."

Suddenly, the syringe was put in view of the camera. The youngest, being quite afraid of such 'jabs', jumped back a little. "Holy crud! Is that a... Needle?!"

"It's a really big needle!"

"Wha' ya think is gonna be in it?" The oldest muttered thoughtfully, seeing the liquid in the cylinder container. "Thats helluva lot of blue stuff..."

"I dunno but it's glowing blue, I don't like the looks'a that!" The third boy whined.

"Oh stop being a baby man! Grow up."

"But what are they doing to him? I mean, why are they strapping him down to a table? It's not a movie, man, and it's not cool!"

"Oh, fuck, guys." The youngest cringed away, eyes wide. "I don't like this."

The oldest closed the video, interpreting the right moment in the recording where they were just about to stab the man with the liquid and pulled the email into one of his side folders. "What'd'you guys think we should do?"

"I think that it's something that should go to the government man, it's like terrorist stuff! Send it to your dad! He's that politician guy or somethin' isn't he? Let him deal with it!" The third boy protested, freaking out a little at what he had seen.

"Y-Yeah... Just forward it. Crap, guys, what if it's like.. Real?"

"It looks pretty real to me." The oldest muttered quietly to himself. "Right, one problem though. I dunno my dad's work email."

(****************************)

The flashlight shone into the Brit's eyes yet again. "Wake up, mister... 'England', was it? Whatever. Rise and shine!"

"Like a diamond in the sky~ twinkle twinkle-"

The Englishman's almost-drunken singing was interrupted by a curt slap to his face. "Stop that, now! We're back to asking questions. Who assisted you on your mission?!"

"Alfieeeee~" Arthur protested with a painful whinge, pulling his head away from the slap. "Whad'you hit me for?"

"Who is 'Alfie'?"

"Good, good friend, I like good friends."

"'Alfie' is a friend. Write that down." The man speaking turned out to yet again, the leader. "Right, what was your motivation for invading our base?"

Arthur frowned at the reminder. "Do you have to keep asking all these questions? I don't want to tell you about it. I know I shouldn't and I don't know why I keep talking. Do I have to stay here? Could we change room or something? It's beginning to stink in here, it's disgusting. This base is right in the middle of vietnamese jungle too, frozen jungle, what's with that? Bloody freak winter. Couldn't you have kept it in a much easier place to get to-"

There was another sharp slap as the leader's hand impacted with the nation's face. "Answer the question! What was your motivation for invading our base?!"

"Fucking hell! Leave me alone! I was only asked to do it by the president! I was being bloody polite!" Arthur protested, the drug blurting the thoughts from his mouth. "How come whenever I try and be nice to someone, it's always me who ends up in shit?"

"It's confirmed. He's with the Americans. Write it down." The uniformed man rubbed his hands together, smiling. This was going fairly well, especially as he needed to extract as much information from the Briton as he could before the hallucinations supposedly kicked in. "What were you collecting from us, and why do you need it?"

"Ah, shit, I just told you something didn't I? I didn't mean to do that. Sorry, Alfred. I mean, um, no, I didn't mean to say that either. Um. Pardon me, but would you mind telling me the exact chemical contents of that thing again? I find it most intriguing, we could use it in the future without all that pain bit. That's a large downside of it."

"Write the name 'Alfred' down. I think that's a trigger." He then turned back to the Brit. "I think we'd rather keep quiet about the serum. But judging from how... Talkative you are being today, we can safely say that it is working. Now, please, tell us what exactly you were collecting, and the purpose behind the collection."

"Hm, well, I don't know. I wasn't told much. I just know it had something to do with... To do with... No that can't be right."

"Hm, what can't be right?"

"Cake."

"Oh, Good heavens. Are you starting to hallucinate? See things?" He looked rather concerned. This shouldn't be happening quite yet!

"No, just... Cake." Arthur replied, blinking at them as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Cake. I wouldn't mind having cake right now."

The man rolled his eyes. This was going nowhere. "So, ...England. Whatever your name is. It'd be very nice if you COULD tell us your first or last name so that we could address you properly, but we understand that you aren't at all keen on giving us that courtesy. Anyhow, why don't you take the moment to... Introduce yourself? Tell us where you live?"

"Well, why would I want to do that? I won't tell you, really... But... What would I say, anyway? I've lived in lots of places." He looked up blankly at the ceiling as if thinking to himself but his mouth kept on working without him realising. "Like there was that time... I remember stonehenge, then the first houses in Dartmoor... But they were ruined quite quickly. then I lived in the woods."

Another voice piped up from the back of the room. It was the translator from before. "...I think he's referring to England. The country. I might be wrong here, but I honestly think that he's under the impression that he's... Actually the country."

"Don't be stupid." The leader shot back.

"But it's true! I lived in the woods at first. Then I became King Arthur and lived in a castle instead. You'll love the jousting." Arthur continued happily.

"...You're 'King Arthur' now?"

"Yup! then I had to fake my own death 'cause people noticed I wasn't aging with them... I kept helping people by being robin hood."

"For fuck's sakes!" He yelled out, then muttered under his breath. "He's messing with us now. Right, I'll fix this." He walked over to the man next to the trolley of various drugs and yelled something of a command at him. The man immediately set to work, and after a brief moment, presented his leader with a syringe, this time with a red substance rather than the blue. "Alright, it's come to this." He said, walking back to Arthur. "You thought that the truth serum hurt? This drug acts immediately, putting the body into shock because of the scorching pain it gives. People have been known to go blind from it. Stop messing around with us, or I will not HESITATE to use it."

"Ah!" Arthur gasped, but stopped himself from crying out, which was difficult with the drug that made him want to talk so much. "No! No, not that. I've had enough stuff like that done to me. Although I'm really getting used to it now. Will that kill me? Then when I wake up, things'll be much better. My body might heal a bit."

"Wait a second, what do you mean, 'wake up'?" The man paused, confused. "How does one wake up after they've died?"

"Well, that's easy for you to say isn't it? You're just human."

"And you are not?"

"Well there's not much point in telling you, you won't believe me if I did tell you anyway. Nobody ever believes me, in all these thousands of years but, oh well..."

The syringe was suddenly pressed much too close to Arthur's chest. Not yet poking in, but almost there. "What the hell are you?! Answer, now!"

"I've told you already! I'm a country! I can't die as long as I'm still here!"

The translator spoke up. "You know, we could always test it!"

"No, you idiot! We need him alive for now. Plus, you cannot honestly be believing him, can you? He's probably riding on the side effects and his mind is clouded. Maybe we ought to give him more serum?"

"I'm as sure as the day is long~" Arthur sing songed firmly. "I've met Shakespeare, killed Charles the first and Napoleon, Hitler was a bitch. I even remember the Vietnam war! Yeah, you know that one, don't you? Both sides begging me to join, but I stayed right out of it, I'd lost the empire and I wasn't going to lose more of it, I proved that with the Falklands war and did I beat the shit out of those people and you still don't believe me do you?"

The leader was just about to erupt, yell at Arthur and most possibly stab the living daylights out of him with the syringe, but the translator pulled his arm back and quickly asked. "Why don't you tell us about Alfred? Who was Alfred, or Alfie or whatever? Was he the man who was with you?"

Arthur saddened a little. "Yes, but Alfred was America. I looked after him until he grew up and Um,... Left but I'm not about to tell you that... Shit."

The leader suddenly looked down. "And what if we told you that we have... 'Alfred' here?"

"What? You do? No, you don't but- Maybe you- no I don't- But you do? Or are you-"

He slapped Arthur. Again. "Yes, yes! We have Alfred. Although he... Can't talk to you. He's too hurt."

"He's what? He's hurt? No! You're lying! You must be! He got away! I know he did, he said so himself, we communicated until he reached the hotel and then you found me but you asked me where he was, so you can't have caught him! You're lying!"

"Fabulous, so Alfred was definitely the man that he was with. Write that down." The leader nodded to the man at the back with the clipboard. "And Alfred was also with the Americans?"

"Pft! With the Americans? I keep telling them things and they just don't listen. 'He' is the bloody Americans, what on earth are they trying to do? Talk me to death?"

"I thought you said that you couldn't die." The man mused, before bekonning for the blue jab. "I think we've got enough information from you for now. Thank you... 'England'. You've been a massive help for now."

"Of course I can't die, you twats. Don't thank me either, I didn't want to help you. Shit, I fucking hate this drug."

"It's your fault for getting captured." The leader gave the Englishman a mocked 'sad-smile' and slowly jabbed the blue serum into Arthur's wrist. "Sleep well."

Arthur jerked again gritting his teeth before relaxing again and growling lightly as the drug spread again. "This thing never gets old with you does it?"

"It would, but it works far too well." Arthur just growled and glared at him, jerking on the table again as the muscles in his stomach arched his back painfully as he lost consciousness yet again.

**(TBC...)**

**A/N: That beginning part was inspired by a comment in a skype call of 'what if kids saw the torture video'? We laughed so hard and knew that we just HAD to put it in. It was fairly entertaining to write the kids' parts. I think it didn't really distract from the story too much, so it's okay xD Plus, we needed something to break up the interrogation scenes.**

**Stay tuned for the next update!**


	9. Minor Complications

**Chapter Eight**

Minor Complications

_**Mr. Kil: I'm Mr. Kil.**_

_**Bond: There's a name to die for.**_

_**-James Bond, Die Another Day**_

Alfred gave the man before him a stare. He had never seen the head of security so... Nervous? Usually the stocky man would be fearless, yelling at the people that he ordered about so loudly that even the nation himself often wondered if they'd lost their ability to hear by now. However, there he was, nervously twiddling with the padlocks of his suitcase in the president's meeting room, where he had called a meeting between himself, Alfred and the president a few days in prior to the meeting he was supposed to have with them anyway.

The doors opening marked the arrival of the president himself arriving to the meeting. All three of them exchanged greetings, and the head of security suddenly spoke up. "I am very sorry to call you in, especially because of the short notice, but this is a matter of urgency. To put some story behind this, about eighteen hours ago, an E-Mail was received by the son and his two friends of one of the government workers. It was anonymous, but contained a certain video file. A file which I'm going to have to show to you today." He then opened his briefcase, to reveal a modern looking laptop which had already been switched on, and turned it around for the nation and the other man to see.

He then pressed play, and scooted over to join the other two at the other end of the room to see the video better. While the video displayed the date, the head of security noted. "They're speaking in Mandarin throughout the video, so we added subtitles."

Funnily enough, out of all three of the people in the secure room, it was Alfred who jumped a bit when the Englishman he knew all too well was suddenly on the screen. "Holy shit! Is that... Arthur?!"

"We believe so."

The nation squinted a little as Arthur's shirt was suddenly stripped off via knife on the video. "What the fuck happened to his shoulder?! Damn, he doesn't look too good."

"It gets worse."

Alfred observed the subtitles, a slight smile appearing on his face at the 'Smithy' part. It was just like the Englishman to tease the people who had captured him like that. However, the smile was immediately swept away as the interrogation continued. He followed the conversation fairly calmly... Until he saw the syringe of blue being brought in view of the camera.

"What the fuck is that?" He yelped involuntarily, a little louder than he desired himself to be.

"We aren't sure." The head of security replied. "Just watch."

"He's the first _human_to try it out?! He ain't even human! What the hell?" He then cringed as the rather large jab was pushed into the underside of Arthur's exposed wrist, and the neon blue substance was placed into his vein. Alfred gulped as he read the subtitles as the man (who wasn't in the view of the camera) explained about the side effects that the rats had endured from the serum.

All three of them nearly jumped as Arthur began reacting to the stuff itself, gagging and twitching, then choking as whatever the hell was in the serum coursed through him. However, Alfred bit back a cheer as he saw the Englishman suddenly spit something up at whoever was looming over him, and the other person react.

Then again, the sudden bout of positivity was broken as a scalpel was suddenly plunged into Arthur's injury in the video. The president turned away, but Alfred did the almost opposite, and leaned forwards while cringing. He was beginning to already hate, no... Detest. No! Loathe whoever was doing this to the Briton. Especially so when he saw Arthur gurgle and whatnot in response to having a scalpel shoved into his chest. Blood was getting everywhere in the video, and Alfred, although going through a many wars where he had seen much worse done to people around him, was suddenly beginning to feel rather ill.

The trio carried on viewing the video, watching in shock and horror as the Brit convulsed and writhed, screaming at one point and finally getting knocked out as the video ended. There was an eerie silence in the room as none of the three men spoke, two of them trying to process what they had just watched.

"Do the Brits know about this?" The President asked, breaking the quiet.

"They were apparently sent the same video." The head of security replied. "They're trying to work out who it's from and how to get Mr. Kirkland back."

"...He must've been captured." Alfred suddenly spoke up. "When we were escaping. We got split up and he never came back to the ren-dez-vous. He told me to keep going, and to not come back for him, but he promised that he'd keep me updated every ten minutes. He disappeared at one point and I thought that he'd collapsed from exhaustion or something. He was hurt. But... Shit. He got captured. Oh, fuck, this is my fault!"

"It's none of our real concern." The president shot back. "We've got what we needed, and Kirkland's capture was his own fault. Let the British deal with it."

"No!" The American glared at his president, a sudden rush of fear and fury rising up in him. "The British probably don't know what even happened. I think I know where he's being held. Shit, we need to get back there and get him out. You saw what they were doing to him! What if they're torturing him for information RIGHT NOW? He knows quite a bit about us, so he could be telling, like, national secrets about us!"

The president thought for a moment, and the head of security piped up. "He's got a point, y'know."

"Yes, yes, I know." The president rolled his eyes. "So, do tell me, Alfred, what do you suppose we do? Send our best men to some goddamned remote location of Vietnam to save one Brit?"

"Exactly!" Alfred nodded, not quite getting the possible sarcasm in the President's tone. "We'll contact the English and tell them not to worry, because we are going to do what heroes do, and save him. Because I'm the hero!"

The president looked from the almost bouncing nation, who was now chattering about how he was going to get back into the Vietnamese military base to no one in particular, and turned to the head of security with a heavy sigh. There was probably no stopping the American nation.

(****************************)

Vietnam had not been this ticked off since 'the cake incident' a few years back. She had no idea how anyone would have allowed two men to somehow run into her military base, and was even more annoyed with the fact that nobody had told her until now, despite the event having happened about a week ago, now.

"On the bright side," Said one of the men at the meeting that she was holding to try and get the whole ordeal sorted out. "At least we captured one of them!"

"We did?" She hadn't been told this. "Who is it? What nationality? What was their motivation? Where are are they now?!"

"Yeah, we interrogated him, but it's hardly any use." One of the men shook his head. "He's utterly mad, even with the truth serum."

"He's got a pretty scary tolerance for pain, though."

Vietnam buried her head in her palm, her ponytail flicking over her shoulder. She really didn't want to be dealing with this now. "Who is he?"

"Well, he called himself 'John Smith' before we gave him truth serum, but we assume that was a fake name."

"And what about after the truth serum?"

"Oh, Goodness. That's why we think he's crazy. He thinks that he's a country."

Her head perked up. Thoughts to the 'cake incident' filling her head again. "Excuse me?"

"Every time we ask him now, he keeps on repeating that he's, well... England. We assume that it's a code name, but he won't tell us anything else, and it's getting quite difficult now that he's becoming more and more delirious. He's seeing things, like... Talking to himself now. Something about a rabbit, according to our translator. We think that the drugs are messing with his head."

Vietnam stood frozen, eyes wide and biting her lip. The men noticed her state and finally asked. "Are you alright? You look... Worried."

"T-Tell me," She finally spoke up. "What did this man look like?"

"Uh, well. He's blonde. Caucasian." The man thought for a moment.

Vietnam sighed. "What about his eyebrows?"

"They're huge! Like, scary huge. Like caterpillars. But... On his face."

The female nation felt like screaming at the people in front of her, but kept her usual cool. "What have you done to him? Interrogation-wise? Do you have tapes, and if so, have you sent them to anyone?"

"Huh? Well, we tested out the truth serum on him, but other than from bashing him about, not much else. We threatened him with another drug, but he gave us what we wanted and we did not have to go that far. We've got it all on tape if you want to see it for some reason, and I think we sent it to the Americans and the British, as we assume that he's with both from what he's been revealing."

"I need to see this man." She announced suddenly, voice steely while glaring at the man who had previously spoken with her honey eyes. "Now."

"Huh? Miss, are you alright?"

"I'm fine. But I think we have a yet another 'cake incident' on our hands."

**(TBC...)**

**A/N: Yay! Quickly updating this before bed! *Yawn*  
**

**See y'all tomorrow!  
**


	10. A Possible Resolve

**Chapter Nine**

A possible resolve

_**Moneypenny: You always were a cunning linguist, James.**_

_**-Tomorrow never dies.**_

The American nation could hardly believe it. He was in the military base, yet again. Except this time, backing him up were several members of the SWAT team, and all (including him) were heavily armed. Learning from his previous mistakes, Alfred had managed a much smoother entry to the establishment along with his new comrades. They had tracked down the Englishman's headset from a very obvious signal it was giving outside the base, and had found themselves the load of files that Arthur had previously been carrying buried under some undergrowth.

However, they now had a much different mission and they decided to dismiss their findings for the moments being. They had a nation to save, and Alfred didn't care what was going to happen on their trek through the military base, both his pride and his devotion to 'being a hero' were not going to allow him to get out of the building without rescuing the Briton.

They were advancing through the building at quite good speed, stealthily knocking out whoever came their way and were lucky to not have gotten into any massive complications so far. However, it was far too early to celebrate anything yet.

The team made their way through the base, their destination being the laboratory part of the building, as they figured from the video that Arthur had either been in some form of controlled experimentation room, or hospital operating place. The hospital ward was their next place to go if they couldn't find any leads at the labs.

Going through the alleyways felt almost familiar to Alfred. He had only been here a bit more than a week ago; however, it was also quite strange. Usually, the nation forgot about places like this just after he left them. But this alley was different. Maybe the mixture of emotions he had felt when he had previously been here made the place somewhat more memorable. Maybe it was something else. But whatever the cause, this space seemed easier to navigate through than he had first imagined.

Two of the SWAT team members stayed ahead, sneaking through and making the coast clear so that the rest of the mission would go as easily as possible. And so far, it was working like a charm. Soon, the nation found himself in a strange laboratory room, with many different vials and tubes with odd liquids in them. He glanced through the small, rectangular window of a sealed, grey door. He saw a load of cages in the room inside, and was reminded of the facts about the rats and the drug Arthur had been given in the video. It just made him even more anxious to find and free the Brit.

"Alright, guys." He said, nodding to his people with a look that was oddly serious for him. "Let's stick to the plan. You guys split up and try to find him. Be careful."

(**********************)

"Hello, flying mint bunny. Are you really there? _I thought you had gone on holiday!_." Arthur groggily opened his eyes to see a floating green blob above his head. It whizzed around but his eyes couldn't quite focus on it, so he mumbled and turned his head to the side and looked at the wall, narrowing his eyes. The green blob had turned orange, sat on a table of colourful syringes with various drugs in them but the orange one was moving. He narrowed his eyes as a form melted out of it and floated into the air like a bubble before becoming a small goldfish with a large fanned tail. It wiggled and swam through the air towards him, opening and closing it's mouth slowly, staring at him unblinking and getting larger as it came closer.

Arthur grew increasingly uncomfortable and looked at the ceiling again, the single lightbulb in the roof laughing down at him. Why was it doing that?

He closed his eyes and counted to three while taking deep breaths before opening his eyes again. He screamed at the masses of rats that suddenly filled his vision, crawling all over him and massing on the floor, one nibbling at his shoulder wound and hundreds did the same to his burnt leg, whilst others stroked their wiry fur over his bare neck and crawled over his face, choking him.

Suddenly, it was over. The rats jumped off and the goldfish was back, sitting on his nose in clear focus and looking down at him, wet fins creating a cold sensation on his skin. "We've only tested on rats you know." It spoke in the voice of his torturer, opening it's mouth slowly in a wide 'O'. "You were expected to hallucinate."

Arthur cried out again and the next time he opened his eyes everything was gone, replaced by a loud banging on the door in front. He breathed heavily and stared at it in fright. There was a growl emanating from in his imagination and the fogged window at the top lit up with two bright red eyes. He wailed in fear again, wishing somebody would drug him again this time, to just get away from what his mind was creating in an all too real way.

Alfred had shot at the hinges of the otherwise sealed door, and used his abnormal strength to shunt the door out of the way, not even caring about the racket it caused. He sprinted into the room, cobalt eyes wide and searching, and nearly cried out as he saw the somewhat recognisable and vulnerable Briton strapped to the bloodstained hospital bed. He gagged a bit at the stench of the place. It smelt as if a few somethings had died in here, but he couldn't care less. He sprinted to Arthur.

"Oh, fuck, England! You're here!" He looked over the other Nation, scrutinizing visible damage with an expression of horror. "Oh, shit... _What did they do to ya?!_"

"Ahhhh! Alfred! What happened to your face!?" Arthur cried out in fright, staring at Alfred in fear as if his head had turned into a goldfish, which it had in his mind, but hadn't in reality.

"What do you mean?!" Alfred touched his own face in worry. "I'm fine! Oh, fuck, it's what they gave to you that's making you act like this, ain't it? Come on, let me get you the fuck out of here. Shit... You don't look good at all." He said as he began to wrestle at Arthur's bindings, gritting teeth.

Arthur whimpered fearfully and pulled as far away from Alfred as possible. He closed his eyes tightly. "Not real, it's not real it's not..."

The American's face fell. "Oh, Arthur..." He looked at the Brit who was backing away in such a fashion with horror. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't left you... Fuck. I'm fixing this." Using all his might, he tore at one of the binds while grunting. "Everything's gonna be... Just fine."

Arthur flinched at the ripping noise and peeked out helplessly at the claws on Alfred's hands whilst trying to see past the many shapes Alfred's head was taking, colours flashing with the sounds and Arthur vaguely remembered hearing about the "seeing sounds" symptom and tried to imagine the rainbows as a comforting thing, but the ribbons kept generating heads at the ends and snarled at him as they flickered past.

"Almost... Ugh, out!" He grunted, pulling at the final leather straps and making them snap. "You're gonna be okay, dude! I promise! The hero is here to save you!"

"The hero thing? Again?" Arthur couldn't help but find himself protesting.

"Yup!" He grinned, grabbing the Briton and lifting him off the table. "Unless you'd rather stay here?" He was teasing, of course, but turned his face serious."Can you walk?"

"Maybe. Wow is your head a donut? I don't even like those things."

"Right, I'm not letting you walk." The American declared, grabbing Arthur and him up and into him, "We'll be out fairly soon. Just hang tight."

"Hey, why are you carrying me? Did somebody get hurt?"

"You think that my head is a fucking donut. I doubt you'd be able to walk out, but I think my guys might be able to get a stretcher. Just gimme a few moments."

"Okay, I got all the time in the world... Which is no time at all with that meteorite I can see through the ceiling."

The American took a few shaky steps and steadied himself. He was about to turn around and make his way out of the room, when suddenly, he heard a feminine voice from behind.

"Stop right there."

The nation froze up. He tried giving the voice a name, as it sounded familiar, yet so distant. Thought of a cake sprung to mind, but he dismissed it. He couldn't get hungry now of all times. He wondered if the person behind him was armed, so he didn't turn in case he was shot at.

"What are YOU doing here?" The voice spoke again, hissing.

"Doing what a hero does, and am saving someone I should've saved before." He felt himself grin. "What about you?"

"I'm here to get to the bottom of why England has been held captive at one of my military bases. And now, as to why you are also here. I take it that you're involved in this too, aren't you, America?"

Alfred spun around. "Vietnam?" He finally recognized the voice and the figure behind him.

"Who else? Put him down. We won't harm him further. I apologise on what has been done to him, as I was not aware until a few hours ago that it was even him being held in here. Or anyone being held in here for that matter. You're just not going to be going anywhere for a while, as I believe we have a few things to discuss."

The American paused for a minute, frowning, but then settled the Brit back onto the bed. "You stay put."

"Ah! Don't put me back with the rats!" Arthur protested, pushing himself as far away from the table as he could, staring at it in fright.

Alfred's face flitted with concern, which didn't quite suit him. He turned to the female nation. "Can I at least call my own men to put him on a stretcher. He's been tortured on that bed, and it's all blood covered. He's hallucinating, too and needs help. I think. Just, anywhere but here."

Vietnam looked down for a moment, then replied. "Yes. He's been here for long enough." She gazed over him, her face suddenly upset. "_Much too long_. Follow me."

And that was just what the American did. He carried the English nation out of the creepy room, only to find the SWAT team members being held at gunpoint by a few of the men in other uniform, which were dismissed by Vietnam herself as she walked to them. It wasn't long until a stretcher was brought forward, and Alfred had to consequently try and put the Englishman into it.

"Don't be stupid I don't need a stretcher." Arthur protested groggily, beginning to fall unconscious again from lack of food and a come-back of the 'drugs headache' delivered from being awake for too long. Waving his hand weakly a the stretcher as they laid him on it despite his various protests.

About half the people in the room watched the Brit lose consciousness yet again. Alfred still felt horrible as he watched the Briton be carried about in it, but then again, he had further things to deal with. He was about to follow the people carrying Arthur away, when he felt a hand on his arm tugging him back.

"You're staying here. You'll see him in a while, though, and I'll make sure to keep my promise and not let any further harm happen."

Alfred pouted. "Yeah, whatever. I don't care. I just needed to get him out of here, and... Yeah."

The Vietnamese nation tilted her head slightly. "I believe you. In any case, we need to talk."

"'Bout what?"

"About why you decided that it'd be a good idea to come back here, America. And drag England into this, too. I thought that you were more mature than that."

"Mature?" America furrowed his brows. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"This is obviously another attempt at the so-called '_cake incident'_." She replied, as-a-matter-of-factly. "I thought I made it clear that I still don't believe that you were in the military base looking for a cake recipe."

"But, I was! And this has nothing to do with that!" He then paused and thought for a minute. "Well, I guess it kind of does."

"Enlighten me, America. Please, I'm all ears."

"It's to do with some weird terrorist shit that's been going on. I forget what mister President said previously, but... It was really important, okay? There was some kind of lead for it at your place, and we tried to get some info from your databases to check it out. That's what this whole thing is about, alright? Nothing to start off any dispute or... Get England captured."

It was the female nation's turn to look confused, but also rather concerned. "Why didn't you just ask me, you fool?"

"_I tried, I tried._" He shook his head bitterly while truing to avoid her honey eyes by dropping his own, blue gaze to the floor. "But, you... Well... After the cake incident, it was difficult. We figured out it'd be easier just to get in and get out without having to come to you. After all, if you said 'no', we'd at least be able to get in without suspicion. Get what we needed without trouble. This way, we'd get the full knowledge, without any second thoughts about anyone keeping anything from us."

"I see."

"And it worked. Kind of."

"Until we got Kirkland?"

He slumped his shoulders. "Until you got him. Yeah."

She tilted her head, obviously absorbing his words and thinking them through. She then frowned. "Why was he here again?"

"Just helpin' a fella out." Alfred gave a sad smile. "...I ain't that great a spy."

"As proven by the 'cake incident'."

"_Can we just forget about that?_" He gritted his teeth.

"If you forget about this and... Forgive for what they did to him. He looked terrible and..." She said, sighing as she broke her otherwise strong and fairly cool demeanor. "I have no idea what I can do to England to make it up to him. I... I can't even..."

"Hey. It wasn't your fault. You didn't even know anything was going on until today." He gave the nation a small smile. "When he comes round, he'll be fine. I hope."

There was a momentary silence between the two in the room as she turned away from him and then turned back to face the other nation, her almost-golden eyes searching his face in a way which made him feel rather strange. "Was it at least worth it? Did you get what you wanted?"

"Oh, yeah. Definitely." He nodded, trying hard to not smile at his 'victory', as it would have broken the mood and his smile had no place here. "And... It was wrong of me not to consult you. I... I fucked up, and I'm sorry. It's my fault for bringing Arthur into this as well. You have nothing to apologise for."

There was another lengthy pause in the room until Vietnam spoke again, not looking at the other nation. "There always is, Alfred F Jones. _There always is_. " There was no malice in her tone, not that there had been any to begin with. However, it was a situation in which Alfred had expected to be shouted at and arguments to be happening, so the calm left him oddly... Empty on the inside.

She sighed and looked into his eyes for a moment or two. "Let's... Let's carry on. I'll see you somewhere else."

And with that, she left the room, briskly carrying herself away.

**(TBC...)**

**A/N: AAAAAH SORRY FOR LACK OF UPDATES OH MY GOD DON'T HATE ME.**

**dgefjkwrejkljilergjilegjlege **

**I never suspected school would get into the way THIS MUCH, but I'm happy if you've still taken the time to follow the story up to this point. We're nearly done! Stay tuned for the dramatic (or... Not really 'dramatic) CONCLUSION! 8D**


	11. The Day After

**Chapter Ten**

The Day After

_**Bond: "Now put your clothes back on, and I'll buy you an ice cream." **_

_**-For Your Eyes Only**_

"Fuck my head." Arthur groaned to himself, slowly raising a hand to his forehead and grimacing. "Ugh, I feel like I was hit with a sledgehammer." He paused before memories of the past few days came rushing back and he bolted upright on the bed. "No drug'll make me tal- huh? Where am I?"

He looked around and heard the propeller blades of a helicopter, and felt the steady rocking and shifting of gravity of being inside one. However, the throbbing in his head pounded at him in protest before he got to see, let alone recognise anybody else sat in the helicopter by his bed before he grimaced again and rubbed his temples. But he wasn't strapped down. Did that mean his capturers had recognised him and were taking him somewhere else? What on earth was going on?

Suddenly, the American somewhat bounced into the picture, shouting over the helicopter blades. "Be right back, guys! I'm just gonna check up on England! Oh, you're awake! That's awesome! We thought you were in a coma!"

"Huh? What?" Arthur winced at the noise and opened one eye to see America. "America? What-... What happened? The last thing I remember is getting drugged with this blue stuff and... No, I woke up again but... God, I don't remember. How many days was I there for? Why are you here? What did you do?" He asked quietly, still rubbing his head. He wondered why he was only using one hand and then found out when he looked down at his shoulder, realising why he couldn't feel anything past it. "That's infected... Great."

"You're going home! Well, after we patch you up at our place, which we're nearly at!" The nation grinned, overjoyed at the fact that Arthur wasn't in a coma like the doctor had warned. "We got you outta there. Well, Vietnam helped, but she didn't even know that you were being held there until yesterday morning! She only saw the videos then..." He bit his lip a little, remembering watching the video himself. "You were pretty out of it when we found you. Hallucinating and shit. I think that you thought my head was like, an evil goldfish or something. You've been missing for over a week, and I swooped in and rescued you! Because, y'know, that's my heroic duty and all."

Arthur growled and was about to protest and prevent his pride from slipping further when his head was speared with another pain. He ended up on rubbing it lightly. "I don't remember any of that... I would have been able to get out myself though."

"Yeah, uh, dude. You were delirious and strapped to a hospital bed. I would've liked to see you try."

Arthur frowned and tried to cross his arms but that was prevented by the fact that his left arm didn't move with his other one across his chest. "I could've still done it eventually but... Thanks anyway..." He mumbled mostly to himself as if he was embarrassed to let anybody else hear what he was saying, looking down and away from America defiantly.

"You're welcome!" He chirped, somewhat pleased with himself. "The doctor took a look at your shoulder, and although couldn't do much because of the fact that we were and still kind of are in a chopper. But apparently something's up with it. Oh! And you may have lost some braincells from the drugs! ...But that's not really much to worry about."

"Idiot."

"Well, whatever. But, on the bright side, we got the info we needed! We also got the cake incident sorted out, so that's all good. And now that you're back and alive, we can call this mission a success!"

"Finally..." He rolled his eyes and allowed a light, relieved smile to form on his face. "Do you have tea? Because those bastards didn't."

"...Uh... We've got coffee?"

"... Wankers. Can't even serve a cup of tea..."

"We'll get you something at my place, y'geezer." Alfred crossed his arms. "Probably not gonna be your kinda stuff, but it'll be better than nothing, right?"

"I guess so. As long as it's something to drink or eat. According to you, I haven't had that for a week and it sure feels like it too."

Alfred suddenly looked a little mournful. "Yeah, sure. We'll get you whatever you want. Except scones. Nobody likes those."

"Hey! Nothing's wrong with scones! I'll have some when I get home if you insist."

"Keep telling yourself that." The American rolled his eyes. "How about about a burger?"

"No. Not in hell."

The American nation grinned ear to ear. "I'll get you to eat one someday."

**(/End.)**

**A/N: About a week later, I suspect the terrorist situation got solved, international relations improved and Arthur got his scones and tea. An overall happy conclusion. xD**

**Thanks to everyone who showed their support with this fic, let it be in form of review, favourite or follow! I has been fun reading up on all your comments and replying and seeing what you thought of the adventure xD It's been pretty fun to write up!**

**Be sure to check out Micromil601 on dA, who helped me coauthor this via RP!**

**See you all later,**

**Socks.**


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